If I look through the glass, I see a parking lot. Hardly glamorous. I'd much rather look through a monitor or a telly screen. I'm no longer the girl who twirled fearlessly down your mum's hall with no worry for what she toppled over.
You've no way of knowing what that old coot wants, so it's rather impossible to appease him. I suspect he'll be ornery and impossible, and whatever you give him will be entirely the opposite of what he wanted. Best please yourself, Peter - oh, and me. Mustn't forget me.