Will Self follows the practice of exploring the not so obvious and has written a book about psychogeography. Psychogeography is the study of how geographical environments affect emotions and behavior. In its simplest terms it is about exploring our immediate surrounding spaces: instead of just getting into your car/on the bus/train or taxi, you explore your environment outside of these confines. You can as Will Self did, walk to Heathrow airport instead of getting a taxi there and see what you find, although I wouldn’t advocate walking 20 miles.

I agree that we should explore our immediate environment more, but my explorations have been on a smaller scale. I work in a “business park” surrounded by car parks. But is this all there is in my immediate environment? The answer I discovered is no. After a few brief forays at lunchtime, I discovered that apart from roundabouts and paths through housing estates, I am also quite near to a large cemetery and a wood as well as a rural walk through fields to a small village nearby. The fringes of the city have always fascinated me. Where does urbanity end and the countryside begin?

Suburban housing estates act as buffer zones between inner city and rural life. They are the places were most people live, but are the least idyllic and fashionable to some. Looked down on as inferior by those in city loft apartments or expensive villagey thatched cottages, the suburbs are the least explored and the most ignored. When we choose to go on walks, we either follow a historic city walk seeing “important historic sites” or opt for a Romantic country walk up mountains or alongside rivers or fields.

The most informative walks I’ve ever done have been around my own neighbourhood. I’ve often taken walks around my immediate home or work environment and when I moved to my current housing estate, one of the first things I did was to explore it. To me I can see no inferiority in these types of environments. In fact I find their lack of pretentiousness refreshing. I’ve often felt stifled and intensely irritated by some of the fashionable neighbourhoods of London. I can’t spend more than a few hours rambling around Hampstead or Chelsea without feeling the urgent desire to leave and get back to “normality” at last. To get away from fake village charm and shops selling completely useless expensive junk. To escape the company of overly perfumed women with tiny dogs and gaudy designer handbags. Or loud conversations that everyone is meant to hear but where the subject matter is invariably dull. (I once had a conversation about designer handbags with a friend and we both concluded that on the whole most are incredibly ugly, gaudy creations, but the Emporer’s new clothes have always been alluring for the wealthily deluded. I’ve always thought that followers of fashion have little taste.)

Since moving to my present housing estate, I’ve discovered it has meandering walks that you can follow alongside roads, houses or fields, past graffiti walls and gnome-bedecked gardens. It has ancient churches with funny gargoyles, shops selling anything you could possibly need, wooden mushroom sculptures in the park and small mazes created from hedges for children. I’ve always felt happy living here and never feel as if I have to compete with anybody in terms of clothes, cars, gardens, pets or any other symbols of status. In fact, whenever I’m in need of inspiration or just to have a think, I put on my coat and head to the door for my next adventure.