That I am a mile up a single track lane, surrounded by nothing but fields, green open space, animals, birds, insects and plants and the sights, sounds and smells of agriculture. Not a sign of another building (except a couple of farm buildings in the distance), absolutely no light pollution at night, silent apart from the sounds of nature - as far away as I can get from suburbia, urbanisation, noise, traffic, pollution, crowds and the built environment. A lovely, quirky, virtually untouched 400 year old cottage, still has a brick floor in the kitchen, just laid on bare earth, a well under the downstairs bathroom floor, oak kingposts throughout, and two gargoyles inset into a panel in the living room wall, which came, by a convoluted route, from the original Palace of Westminster, which burnt down in the 1830's, and are, therefore, Saxon in origin - very weathered, but I like to think that they keep a weather eye over the house, and me. Every time I walk through the door, the house wraps its arms around me, hugs me and makes me feel welcome - my happy place, where I belong and, even when I am no longer alive I will still be here, keeping a watchful eye on its next custodians as all those who have lived, died, been born or conceived here already do!