Reasons why Fran skulks in the back room

Earlier this year, we went down to Dorset for a week and, while we were gone, our landlord had new windows installed in our house. He usually does wait until we’re away to do the major jobs. This way, for instance, during three of our holidays, he’s updated the kitchen, decorated the bathroom and wallpapered the hall.

Perhaps I should make it clear that he does inform us of his intentions. We don’t have to play ‘Guess what might have changed this time!’ on the train journey back or wander up and down our street, letting ourselves into other people’s houses because the landlord’s fitted a surprise new front door.

We rent a Victorian terrace and our old windows looked like this. This is a 2023 shot from our upstairs back window.

Faux-leading (or as my granddaughter’s always called it ‘the diamonds’) isn’t to everyone’s taste but I liked it. I thought it added character. Also, ours was the only house in our Victorian cul-de-sac of around 20 similar houses to have faux-leading and we could say to visitors coming for dinner, ‘We’re easy to find. Look for the house with the leaded windows.’

‘Darling, you know we’re going to the Hills’ for dinner?’

‘Yes.’

‘And we bought that box of Celebrations from Asda?’

‘Yes.’

‘Could you pop to Waitrose and get something classier? She says they live in a house with leaded windows and I’m worried in case it’s a Tudor listed building.’

‘Surely they’re not that posh. Fran’s not exactly classy in those flappy trousers of hers.'

Our leaded windows also provided some privacy, particularly in the downstairs front room which tends to be my territory in the day time while my husband occupies the back room. The windows did the job net curtains or blinds might do for those moments when I wanted to eat a whole packet of Jaffa Cakes or sit on the sofa watching ‘See my cat do weird stuff’ videos for 72 hours straight.

So, we arrived home from Dorset unprepared for the transformation from the relative privacy of faux-leading to the full-on no-secrets exposure that is the plain, unleaded picture window through which neighbours can clearly see me eating 10 Jaffa Cakes and perhaps indulge in a family countdown while I do so, placing bets on how long it takes me.

(By the way, if you thought, ‘Hey, aren’t there 12 Jaffa Cakes in a packet?’, apparently, not any more. Someone called Rhys even started a petition about it on change.org and their passionate defence of the 12-pack is worth a read. They argue that 12 Jaffa Cakes is ‘just right for one sitting’ and I say MARRY ME, RHYS.)

Three months after the windows were installed, I’m still not used to them. I walk into the front room and I feel as though I’ve arrived on stage. The houses opposite have a direct view in and yet because they all have blinds or nets, I can’t reciprocate. I don’t know whether I’m being judged about the Jaffa Cakes or whether someone’s waving three packets of Hobnobs at me in solidarity.

Also, I have a little desk in the front room at which I used to write regularly but I’m opting for the back room more and more in case anyone sees that I write furiously for seven minutes then have a three-hour coffee break, as seen in this actual footage.

Am I fussing about nothing? Does it matter? Should I order some blinds? Should I keep the curtains shut all day and risk a visit from social services?

Or should I say to myself, ‘Fran. There’s a mismatch here. You are complaining that one or two neighbours or the odd passer-by might see into your life, meanwhile revealing your Jaffa Cake habit and your risible writing routine to the entire world wide web.’

It’s true. Not just that but I’ve told you much worse. I’ve told you about sloughing off my skin cells and about embarrassing situations in charity shop changing rooms and confessed that I don’t know how to order a coffee.

In this case, I may as well turn on all the lights in the front room one evening, let the neighbours know on the street’s WhatsApp group, and perform a dance routine in a long vest and slippers.

Still, I might ring the landlord, just to check that, during our next holiday, he’s not intending to replace the frosted window in the bathroom with clear glass.

Inside Fran’s front room Diary

Another round of edits is happening soon for ‘Home Bird’, the follow-up to ‘Cuckoo in the Nest’ that was recently announced here and which will be out in March 2025. Some people have been surprised to hear that the book is still in progress even though it’s been announced, but, yes, there are cover designs to be decided on, acknowledgements to be written, proof copies to be produced, pre-release reviews and endorsements to be sought, and probably much more I don’t know about myself.

On Saturday 21 September I’m compere for a couple of author discussions at the South Warwickshire Literary Festival to be held right here in Leamington Spa where I live. Come and join us!

In October, I’m taking part in Birmingham Literature Festival, appearing as a ‘writer in conversation’ at one of the events. Sign up to the mailing list to be kept informed.

In November, I’ll be at Alcester Library in Warwickshire talking about ‘Cuckoo in the Nest’.

Meanwhile, if you need me, I’m in the back room.