So, here I am doing the thing that epitomises most people’s idea of the freedom of the single writer. Trundling about on leafy Suffolk lanes in my camper van, Hilda, on a Saturday afternoon with no need to be home for a couple of days, just the open road ahead of me. I’d performed some …
When I tell people I have a camper van, they often go a bit misty eyed. “Ahh, a camper van”, they might say. “I’ve always wanted one of those”. I have realised that particular reaction is really about a fantasy of freedom. The freedom to just set off and not know where you’re going to …
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