Was listening to a story on the BBC World Service yesterday about a guy who'd lived for the last eight years in his car. Felt almost envious for some reason. I suppose it's the idea of reducing one's responsibilities to the minimum that oddly appeals.
Not entirely sure how he managed going to the toilet, though. He spoke of bushes and long grass at the side of the road. At that point the notion of car-life lost its appeal and responsibilities transmuted into privileges.
The guy was a musician, by the way: a guitarist. I suppose that explains everything.
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