Good morning from my campsite! I'm taking a cue from a lovely nurse that I used to work with who exudes positivity and often post pictures of stunning views from her home on Facebook. I don't speak in detail much about living in Klaus the Knaus, my motorhome, anymore. It's not that the novelty has worn off. There's still a sense of wonderment that I'm fortunate enough to do this but there doesn't seem much that's new to comment on. The way that I ascribe meaning to my life by working in a field that makes a difference, cherishing my relationships, fostering creativity and bringing up a child to be happy and responsible goes on much the same as it would if I was living in a house. However today I thought that I'd share a few of the thoughts that wouldn't have passed through the old noggin if I wasn't living the way I am.
- Re: using the communal washing line. I know that they were clean but getting hit in the face by someone else's knickers while pegging out my own washing seemed oh so wrong.
- I get a kick out of the fact that unless, I tell them, people don't have an inkling that I live, in this unconventional way. Even though my living accommodation is kooky there's an enormous amount of stability in the lives of me and Louis. I've recently come to an awareness of how important this is.
- I am very territorial in the shower block. The end cubicle in the ladies is mine all mine! A modicum of narkiness comes into play when there's evidence that someone else has been in there and the floor is wet. Heaven help the first person who's in there when I come to use it!
- I feel really safe here. That's crucial. Worrying thoughts went through my head when the groundsheet that I use to cover my recliner went missing. Sure it's only a trivial item but even so. It ignited doubts about whether I could trust those who lived around me. Happily the wind was the culprit. I found that my missing piece of plastic had been blown into a nearby bush. Faith in humanity was thankfully restored.
- The frosted glass on some static caravans really doesn't pass muster. I suffered more than a modicum of distress after spotting naked fat man complete with dangly appendages in full view, presumably on the way to his bathroom one morning. I hope to God that this display of nudity was accidental and not put on intentionally for my viewing pleasure.
- It seems that all the rabbits in the world make a daily pilgrimage to our campsite. There's loads of them. My favourite is the one with the white fur around his nose that sits on the grass at the back of our motorhome each morning. I watch him as I drink my first cup of tea.
- There's all sorts living' here and it's impossible to stereotype. My nearest neighbours are a couple in a caravan saving for the deposit to buy their home. He was formerly in the French Foreign Legion. There's older people who have houses but who stay here almost permanently because they prefer a simple life in the country. And there's a lot of contractors. The new link road to Torquay is being built and lots of them are working on that. Judging by the amount of Guinness cans in the recycling bin, many of them are Irish.
And as a final thought: This isn't a way of life that I'm relishing giving up. I wish it could be permanent. As my friend Joy acknowledged on holiday it really suits me. Maybe the Romany blood of my ancestors is still coursing through my veins? But for the reasons stated in an earlier post that relate to considering the imminent needs of Louis I will be moving in a conventional home by the end of October. There are concepts in mindfulness theory around change. Things, even the good stuff, must come to an end.