who bought a house out in the woods. He bagged a few acres and he likes his own company. There are times I think he got it right, and often when I ride the train to London and forget to seek out the quiet coach. Gotta love those office catch-up calls. Riding through Pangbourne and into the tree-dark cuttings I press my cheek to the glass and dream of a life in the woods, free from all devices. But I’m just another city-boy faker and I know it. And that guy I know spends two hours a day, every day, stoking his log burner…
