It�s getting harder and harder to throw stuff away, stuff you don�t want. A woman down the road was arrested last week because she hadn�t rinsed out her milk bottles, she�d lost her rag, she said, and I wondered which was worse, to live on the road by the rules of the road, or to live in a box and feed your rubbish into all these other boxes. Green glass. Brown glass. Clear glass. Plastic. Cans. I just can�t do it. I don�t know where things go. I used to think the best way to live was to travel light, I�d leave a note on the kitchen table, just in case, throw some tee-shirts and socks in a rucksack, and head off to the motorway slip road and wait for someone to wind down a window and ask me where I wanted to go. I�d ask them where they were heading. Sometimes they wound the window back up, but more often they�d tell me and I�d smile and nod and climb in beside them. I�d never refuse, because what would be the point of that? You might as well say stand there without a shelter and say no to the wind. Truck drivers were the best. Never too fast, never too reckless. One of them was a lion tamer before he started driving trucks. That must have been exciting, I said, but he shook his head. Tell me about it, I said, but he didn�t want to talk about lions. He wanted to talk about his allotment. Rows and rows of vegetables, he said, just think about it. While I�m driving from one place to the next they�re getting on with it, they�re growing. What about the lions? I said. Lions are no use to anyone, he said. They�re cowards in the end, for all their noise, all their sound and fury. There�s a cycle with vegetables, he said, you wouldn�t believe it. What you don�t eat rots down, comes back, there�s never any waste. Everything gets used. It�s staying in the one place that counts in the end, he said, not gorging and moving off, and I wondered how many hours he�d been driving, and what had happened to the lions he�d tamed. I headed home a few weeks later, wishing I�d had the courage, or the cowardice, to throw it all away, forever, be free, as free as I was born. In those days, you�d wind down a window and climb in, or out, and you thought there were no consequences. Now I�m sitting at my kitchen table, trying to sort my rubbish out, wondering where I�ll put the lion.