I’m on the road home from Montpellier, listening to the hypnotic tones of Valerie June, accelerator foot flat in my old car, feeling relaxed, happy to be out of town.

Bouncing up the track in my old car, I concentrate so as not to take a wrong turn. Past the fields of plumy grasses whistling to their own tune and along the avenue of impervious wild flowers flanking the road.

In a town near us there is a house, much the same as the others in its street. Pretty shabby from the outside, peeling render, a mismatch of windows.