and staring out ‘gives me vertigo’ as per a friend. But is the lure of turning in and being content in your own few square miles the same isolationist drift of nations? I stay in my postcode, loafing around the independents, snatching a few hours in the afternoons to earn enough for the business of living. But I dream and plan of escapades. Maybe the turning in will drive us out again, down unimagined and uncharted paths.