I want to go on a road trip. That’s what I’m thinking as I lie on my bed and glance out at the suburban. A long one. I want to go to Sao Paulo and Buenos Aires and Bogota. I want to sit in a car for days and drive through the south of France, taking in the views and the scenes and the long, sunny beaches with the deep blue of the sea crashing in, where I can swim for hours and lie on my back and look up at the equally blue sky. I have a dream where we’re all there, in a camper van, my old college buddies and me.

There’s miles and the rest and I’m driving us down, through St Tropez, looking like it would in an Eric Rohmer film from the sixties, and we’re like members of The Exploding Plastic Inevitable, hair longish and wearing textured hippy tops and the sort of loon pants you’d see advertised in the NME and Sounds back in the day. And we’d stop for nights and sit on cliffs and drink beers by campfires and I'd play an acoustic guitar and we’d watch the sun go down and look out into the blackness ahead.

Then we’d board a ship from a port somewhere in Spain, where we’d spend two weeks driving to in the heat. The ship would take us round the world and we’d dock somewhere in South America and that’s when we’d go to Brazil and Argentina and Colombia and the rest of those far-off places that we’ve only heard about from world cups long ago and beat literature and other stuff of wonders. In my head, it would be a little like Spain but I have no idea, really. I’ve been to Spain so I know what it’s like. I’ve never been to South America, I’ve just got an idea of it in my head, a place I’ve seen on films and elsewhere.

I want to go, in the same camper van, with the others, and find a beach, a perfect place that we can only dream of, with a beach bar that’s like a shack that sells ice cold lagers in the bottle and plays sweet sounds of somewhere that’s at the back of your mind. And they play those sweet sounds of somewhere and you lie there on the beach and sip your lager and look out at the sea and that’s life, that’s all there is. And, as I'm thinking all this, I lie back and look again at the suburban.