A trip to the country.

Yesterday, I went to meet a director to discuss a script at his house in Sussex. At the station, I gave the cab driver the postcode and fifteen minutes later, he dropped me at the end of a dirt track and assured me that it was “Just down there”. It wasn’t. There was nothing down there. Nothing at all. I trudged back to the road. Still nothing. Not a house, a shop, a pub or a pavement. And obviously no phone signal. Cars were zooming past at about 60mph, so I had to scramble up a steep bank to avoid being killed. I was totally lost and completely helpless. Luckily, a passing police car stopped and took me to my destination. It was nowhere near where I’d been dropped. So if I’m ever tempted to move to the country, I’ll remember this and move instead to the middle of Piccadilly Circus.