Nowhere To Run To...

I was cleaning up the kitchen yesterday morning, nonchalantly wiping surfaces down and stacking the dishwasher I was too lazy to do the night before when Adrian Chiles began interviewing a woman called Susan Smillie.  A softly spoken Scot who'd ditched the desk job in London for a life on the open water.  I crossed the kitchen to turn up the volume on my DAB radio, realising this was something I needed to hear.

I have interviewed many different people over the years, however it is those with the most unusual tales which I always prefer; those who step out of the ‘ordinary’ life and go completely against the grain.  People who say no to how the majority live their lives and choose to do it completely differently. I am drawn to these individuals and seek to learn more about what drives them to do things differently.

The Camper outside the now empty Grand Hotel

Just a few days prior I had been walking near my home, passing a pretty cool looking RV as I strolled past the now empty Victorian Grand Hotel, its swimming pool covered by a large marquee with debris piled to the side of it, not quite the 5 star establishment my parents had stayed at nearly 12 months ago to celebrate their respective birthdays.

It was becoming dusk when I stopped to admire the camper, thinking about my own caravan, holed up in storage along the coast.  As the sun gave up for another day, it seemed to capture this moment for me in a freeze frame, the darkening sky with a hint of pink, framing the camper against a coastal backdrop which under normal circumstances would seem perfectly fitting, but for the empty car parking bays on an early Spring evening, now abandoned, but for the RV.  I took a photo and longed to be in my own van.

One of the reasons I have always loved camping is the freedom.  To me, it is the ultimate escape.  You could offer me some far flung place with luxury double beds to lounge on beside a swimming pool and that would all be very nice but there is something so down to earth about camping and experiencing the great outdoors that for me, it is my ultimate happy place.  It is perhaps the reason why I felt at one with the guest on the radio talking about the freedom of life on the ocean.  She described how Brexit and the referendum (result) had depressed her to the point of wanting to take off; to down tools, dust herself down and see whether she could find real purpose by touring the UK by boat, to try and have meaningful conversations with people.  She had been a journalist, working in London but feeling deflated after half of us voted to leave the European Union (don't get me started on that) she needed to reset.  I completely understand this notion.

She went on to describe how her tour around the UK ended up veering off course at Lansend and soon after she would find herself in France and more recently Italy where she is now unable to navigate anywhere due to the restrictions on travel.  However, being used to her own company and a tiny space only habitable by one person below deck, she went on to say she was quite happy in her little sailing boat, moored up in some tiny harbour, making ends meet with some savings and a few writing commissions.  She said the previously stern-looking supermarket check-out lady now offered her a smile, since the lockdown began and that others have reached out to her, asking if she needed any other supplies. Susan has been making her own flat breads with flour, where she had been unable to find local bread.  She appears to be incredibly resourceful.

Looking after my caravan in France in 2014

I have always been a free spirit.  The mother of a good friend of mine once said, 'She never lets the grass grow under her feet' which I wouldn't deny.  I've probably mellowed over the last couple of years although on the eve of my 45th birthday (as I write this) I find myself looking forward to a time when I can ditch the rat race, once the kids have homes of their own and potentially do something really exotic like become a campsite warden!  In the same way I scroll through Rightmove looking at houses, I also scroll through the UK Campsite website at the warden vacancies every year, imagining myself cleaning shower blocks and emptying bins and greeting guests for the privilege of a free pitch for the Summer and a bit of pocket money.  It sounds totally romantic, to me. 

I have always had the feeling I need to run; to alter the course, to change the view, to shake things up, start again, rip things up, give new life to something else.  I get bored easily.  One of my twins, Emmy has inherited this same gene.  I worry about her every day; these high expectations she will have, the perfectionism, the planning, the fallout when things veer off course.  That need within us to start all over again.  But of course, these traits equip us with brilliant tools.  We have boundless energy, we think nothing of decorating a room in a day, finding solutions to problems, overcoming obstacles; we have a fight within us and try getting in our way when we are going after what we want!  We don't like to be told no, we HATE rules and seldom abide by them. Yes, it's usually a recipe for disaster and makes for one hell of a rollercoaster ride.

My caravan is gradually getting a makeover

Joking aside though, this is who I am.  I am at my happiest sweeping out my caravan and washing the dishes outside in a field, whilst exchanging pleasantries with other campers. Playing house, I think they call it.  So when I heard about this woman, unable to travel in her boat, I felt empathy for the restrictions suddenly placed on her, like all of us at the moment, but also understood that, being moored up in a tiny Mediterranean port in the April sunshine wasn't all that bad.  In an ideal world I would be holed up in my caravan for the entire lockdown period, which of course is against the rules, which even I wouldn't break.

This lockdown is a massive test for all of us on so many levels.  Ordinarily when I feel anxious or depressed, I do things which will take those feelings away, such as visit my caravan and spend a few days in camping heaven, however for the reasons we now know, this is no longer possible. Others may take to the water to alleviate stress, such as paddle boarding or surfing. Some may head for a strenuous workout in the gym.  Whatever we would ordinarily try and do to mend ourselves, we are now more limited in our choices.  

This is where we as humans must now dig deeper. Perhaps only champion athletes know the mental strength it takes to do this.  A lot is being asked of us right now.  Finding that inner voice to guide us through can be challenging some days.  But by clinging on to those hopes and dreams we have, by telling ourselves our plans are on hold, not cancelled, that life will somehow return to normal again, it should make all those things we are missing appreciated in a way we never knew possible.  Just as the lack of aircraft in our skies has lifted the haze from the smoggiest of cities, the mist will clear and make way for a new dawn; one of which I hope I can enjoy whilst knowing I still have somewhere to run to.