The telly, it turns out, shows exactly the same shite as it did over in the odd numbers, so I find myself inclining my head slightly to the left to discern the activities of my neighbours.
It's all very voyeuristic but I can't help it.
As we're situated here in Radge Towers we're facing another apartment block directly across the road.
While I like to think that I'm just being a good soul and looking out for my brethren, I know that it's the same nosey gene that had my granny glued to her front window in Fairfield Road...
"That's the third time Mrs Loughman has been up and down the road today. I wonder where she's... Oh, hang on, there's Kay...." She hurries out to the front door. "Kay! Yoo-hoo! Kay!!! How's Nuala?"
...and it's a slippery slope that's going to lead all the way to Specsavers' special brand of night vision goggles.
Still, I'll be laughing all the way to the publicity pages when I catch yer man from two floors up, three windows to the right beating his missus to death with a vase.
You'll all want to know me then.