Across the road, there are four houses, huddled together and yet snootily sprawling their front gardens and parading their hedges: neighbours but distant. Typical middle class village in mid-England.

I have a neighbour who lives in one of those; walks his dog very regularly. Very regularly.

So regularly, in fact, that I have noticed. He will come out with the creature as I pull into my drive, and will be walking right up to the same level as my front door by the time I reach it.

I though the Brits were reserved. I thought you'd always know what your neighbours get up to, but never utter a word to them. Or look at them.

This neighbour is different. He stares. He never stops looking at me. I feel his eyes on my back, as I haul out the shopping bags. I know I am watched as I carry Pest n.2, asleep, inside. This man will follow me with his eyes until there is nothing of me left on the pavement.

As he walks on, he turns to look once again.

At the beginning I thought it must be the fact that I was a new neighbour. You know... curiosity... Two children and no man around...

Then I thought it was the fascination of seeing a woman squeeze a large saloon through the tiny entrance of her drive, all the time shouting at her children sitting in the back, a mobile phone glued to her ear, and gathering sports bags, trainers, lunchboxes and jumpers out of the car. Life's scattering.

Now I am not so sure. He has started to call out, from the other side of the road: Hello! Hello! You all right? How are you?

Today, I have noticed he is in his forties, and rather handsome.

He...

Has...

Ginger hair.

I hate dogs. I also suspect that if he lives in one of those houses, there is a wife waiting at home. How can she not hear the 'hello! How are you?' shouted across the road is a mystery to me.

Now. How do I play this?