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I've recently read the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman (which, if you haven't already read, I highly recommend). In this theological novel disguised as a children's book, a group of kids are pursued through parallel universes.
I was struck by the concept, as we have recently moved from London to rural Wiltshire, and the contrast between the two is obvious. I grew up on a farm in Cape Town and have wanted to get out of London for many years, as I feel so much more at home in the country.
But quite aside from my daughter being at school in London and having all her friends there, I was too nervous to stray far from my HIV Clinic.
Once I did fall seriously ill, while staying with friends near here. Rather than face the local A&E, I got into my car and drove 200 miles to the Royal Free in north London. I promptly passed out in the waiting room and on coming to was asked how I got there. I said that I had driven from Dorset. They gasped. "But Caroline, you have a temperature of 104 and E-coli septicaemia!" "Yes," I answered, "That's why I drove here."
But now I've had six years of successful HAART, married a fabulous man, and my daughter is at university in America. So I thought it was time to take the plunge and go back to my country roots. Through a friend, we found a gorgeous 400-year-old thatched house on a country estate near Salisbury, and four weeks ago we moved in. I promptly forgot about HIV, and telling the locals about it seems not so much

impossible as irrelevant. I will drive up every three months for the usual check-up at my clinic and catch up with friends at the same time, but almost instantly