Your ideal Saturday morning:

Out of the door by nine, three things planned, coffee on the move.Up a hill before most people have got out of bed at all.A long breakfast with a lot of people and no particular end time.Rain on the window, nothing booked, nowhere at all to be.

What you actually want from where you live:

Room to afford a life, and people who talk to strangers.To be near where things are being made, whatever that costs.Four real seasons, and a town small enough to matter in.Nature close enough to be in, rather than to look at.

How you feel about being cold:

Fine. You dress for it and you keep walking.You will not be doing that, thank you.Mild is ideal. A frost is a novelty, not a season.You genuinely love it. Cold is when everything gets good.

Pick the weekend you would actually take:

At the trailhead by seven, back after dark, legs ruined.Three coffee places, a bookshop, and a record you didn't need.Somewhere with live music and people you have only just met.Water, all day, and then food off a grill.

What you would want your commute to be:

On foot or on a train, and never once a car park.A bike, and rain gear you complain about and keep using.A car, a good playlist, and twenty minutes to yourself.Short, and with something worth looking at the whole way.

What you want from the people around you:

That they would rather be outside than talk about being outside.Direct. You would much rather be told than managed.Open. Everybody is from somewhere else and says so.Slow to warm up, and then permanent.

The money question. Which trade would you take?

Pay a lot and live small, to be in the middle of it.Pay a lot anyway, because of what is out of the window.Pay less, drive further, and have a garden.Pay in another currency entirely: weather, or quiet.

The landscape that makes you feel something:

Flat distance, a sky that goes on, and a storm coming in.Fog, green, and a road that disappears into trees.Mountains with snow on them, seen from the kitchen window.Water going all the way to the edge of everything.

How you would want a Tuesday night to go:

Out. Something on. Home late and pleased with yourself.A small room, a band nobody has heard of, nearly free.Outside until it goes dark, then dinner in the garden.Home, cooking, with the door to the porch left open.

The thing you would miss most if you left:

The first properly cold morning of the year.Space. Actual room to spread yourself out in.The place where you know the staff and they know you.Being far enough away that nobody drops in.

Pick the problem you would rather have:

Everything is expensive and everybody is in a hurry.Winter lasts about a month longer than anyone enjoys.Summer is genuinely unreasonable for three months.It rains for most of the year and you make peace with it.

Twenty years from now, where do you want to be?

Somewhere with a porch, and people dropping in unannounced.Somewhere still busy, still changing, still slightly too much.A small place where you know everybody, and it is yours.Somewhere green and wet, a long way from a motorway.