Unless you have been to boarding-school when you are very young, it is absolutely impossible to appreciate the delights of living at home.
A writer of fiction lives in fear. Each new day demands new ideas and he can never be sure whether he is going to come up with them or not.
When I walked to school in the mornings I would start out alone but would pick up four other boys along the way. We would set out together after school across the village green.