The corner of my sitting room is taken up with a large, leather armchair. I’ve owned it for years. It’s sunk to my shape and lures me in with the promise of comfort and familiarity.
If I could strap four of them onto a chassis and surround myself with every gizmo known to modern motoring man, I would probably have the Range Rover Autobiography.
As much as I love blatting around England in low-sprung supercars, I can also be seduced by the promise of supreme comfort – oh and a heated steering wheel.
I’m really not sure you will find better seats in a luxury car. Combine that with the high seating position and the world is a wonderful place. Even on a cold, January morning in the Shires…