23 NOVEMBER 1991, Page 46

Sloane Street Flats

Twice now, middle to old men wearing indoor clothes and crows feet have worried outside their open doors, said my casual slamming wakes an inside sick woman.

Today, I make my mid-morning exit to lectures and late tube return from the pub, with fingers on the Banham latch.

This is not Tatler's Knightsbridge: my neighbours live in the self-contained estuaries of corridors, students of nest level privacy and carpet slipper patience.

Julian Flanagan