Farther west and north, lies Norfolk, which I visit often, particularly in the summer, because of the music festival there.
He also did a garden for the Serpentine Gallery, which I visit a lot, so that's how I got to know about his work.
It's the same with Tuscany, which I visit not for the astonishing mannerist frescos of Mantua's Palazzo del Te, but its pleasingly cheap and tasty eponymous cheroots.
The final stop on my car journey is the Future Cities Catapult, which I visit on its first day in new offices on the edge of the City of London – so new the smell of fresh paint is overwhelming.
Photograph: Graham Turner During my daily foray into middle England - the Daily Mail website to be exact, which I visit for a few moments during elevenses - I have come across two desperately sad stories, both perfect metaphors for a nation in decline.
I would have joined in but I only read US Vogue when I'm pretending not to cry in the hairdresser, which I visit once every five years, as a Nicky Clarke-in-training hacks a bit more of my jewfro off.
