Staying in got too easy. We can get food – anything we want, actually – delivered; we can exercise and socialise. We can amuse ourselves, endlessly, indoors: smartphones and streaming mean kids today will never know the crushing tedium of 1980s Sunday nights, funereally soundtracked by Harry Secombe’s baritone. Home – if we’re lucky – feels like a haven, a feeling compounded by Covid (which reframed staying there as a civic virtue) and even if we’re not lucky, it’s cheaper, during a cost-of-living crisis. But as the urban policy specialist Diana Lind wrote in the Washington Post in August, “The cheapest and easiest option – staying in – is costing us something else.”