It tastes of freedom.I finish the bottle and stagger back to the pine DFS single bed I’m staying in for the night just as drunk-panic sets in: ‘What the hell have I done?’The next morning the ferry blows me to Ireland, where I sleep for a week.
Then spend a month scoffing Guinness bread and making briquette fires, claiming I’m practising for my new life – although I’m doing it in an exquisitely furnished house with central heating.By the time I return to Land’s End it is autumn: the air is muzzy and the red bracken drenched.
I drive to my beautiful house – ready to move in.Anyone who knows anything about buying property will realise what a fantasy this was.
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