The View

From my vantage point in my lounge, I can see her.  She sits at her computer from the moment she gets up until the time she goes to bed, only breaking from the screen to grab food and drink or to answer the door.  She has the back of the computer monitor facing the window and the blinds angled so that she can see up the length of our road.  Occasionally they are tweaked or shamelessly pulled back if something interesting is happening in the other direction, but that isn’t often.

I want to know what she’s looking at on her screen.  Who is she typing to?  Is she pretending to be a high-flying socialite or is she whizzing around the internet dating sites?  I bet she’s not put her own picture up... 

She peers round her screen and scans the road again.  I scoot down in my seat even though I know she can’t really see me.  I don’t want her to know that I’m watching her.  Blog Fodder – that’s what this is.  I could make up all sorts of stories about her.  Oh no! She could be one of my random Twitter friends.  That means she could see this once it auto-tweets!  Ach, she’ll never guess that it’s about her.

Could she be a drug trafficker?  She does seem to get a lot of packages delivered. Oh, haha, I wonder if she’s fallen for one of those stupid ‘business deals’ that ask you to accept packages on their behalf?  Or is she a Madam, offering ‘personal services’?  I thought they were just family members that called round to her house.  Thinking about it, it has never been the same person twice.  She must be crap at whatever she does because they aren’t exactly coming back in their droves.  No, I have it now.  She is one of those people who send me frigging spam all the time.  You know the sort – telling me that they are searching for the £18,000 jackpot winner or telling me that they can ease my debt problems.  All they need is my bank account details, my vital statistics and an old passport that they can use for forgery.  Yeah, right! I wasn’t born yesterday, love.  You won’t catch me out that easily.  Internet savvy, me.

Right, I’m off out now.  I don’t have all day to spend in front of the computer.  I have a life to lead. 

* * *

From my vantage point in my lounge, I can see her if the blinds are facing the right way.  She’s going out now but she has no idea that I’m piggy-backing her internet connection and that I can hack into that bloody laptop of hers.  She’ll learn one day – but not before I’ve sent a few random Tweets on her behalf, messed up that precious blog of hers, signed her up to a few porn websites and transferred a couple of hundred quid out of her bank account for being such a cheeky cow.  

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