April the 1st. A fitting day to start such a ludicrous challenge. Although I had spent a lot of time scheming and planning, the start seemed to sneak up upon me - ninja like. And so it was that I just flung some clothes and a sleeping bag into a rucksack, and went out into the night to spend my first 12 hours under the sky.
In the UK April is cold. There were patches of frost around me as I trudged along the road outside my flat, in search of a secluded patch of earth to call my own. Before I had even lost sight of my flat, however, something happened that put my whole "adventure" into perspective.
On the other side of the street, slumped against a doorway, a man was trying desperately to stand up. He stood once, turned a full 180, and fell head-long into a shop window - with a resounding thump. I rushed over, and asked him if he was OK. He was obviously homeless, obviously drunk (I hope only drunk), and in a very bad way.