Benji Lanyado

I wake up, and for a moment everything seems normal — I’m in a fairly nice hotel room, tucked up in a double bed. To my right there’s a TV and DVD combo hovering above a wooden desk, next to which a door leads to the toilet. Then the sheep start bleating. Because I’m not in a hotel at all, I’m in a glass box in the middle of a field in Oxfordshire, England.