Happy Mondays

Mondays feel different nowadays. Actually, everything feels pretty different. We no longer count down the days until the weekend, we don’t get that Friday feeling, the Sunday evening sorrow, or the ‘just f*cking shoot me’ Monday morning blues.

Today (on this sublime if a little grey Monday) I’ve made a promise to myself that I will never again work more days in a year than not. I actually quite like working. I’ve liked most of the jobs I’ve had in my adult life (apart from the year I worked in banking to pay my drama school fees- I wouldn’t wish that kind of misery on anyone, although the parties were excellent and the Friday feeling euphoric). However if my current state of contentment is anything to go by, it would appear that I like not working much much more. Call it a personal preference. I will therefore be ensuring that I achieve a genuine work-life balance for the rest of my time on earth.

Conveniently, it would also appear that I am content to survive on very little. Living in a van is not free, but the costs are a fraction of our previous London rent, and our other costs appear low too (so far anyway) so I don’t think I need to work full time to pay my way.

I’m aware that not everyone would wish to live in a small space but I rather enjoy it. I felt quite weighed down by all the stuff we owned in our London flat. Stuff is stressful. Living simply makes me feel lighter. It’s also a great time-saver. I can clean the whole van in about 30 mins (inside anyway- we’re yet to clean the outside, dirty bastards) which leaves more time for playing.

I’ve also got a bit of a phobia when it comes to contracts. Signing rental agreements and employment contracts has always made me feel quite nauseous, like I’m signing away my freedom. I prefer to feel like I could do a runner as and when I please without pissing anyone off. So the non-committal, flighty nature of van living suits me pretty well.

Anyway, enough of the self-indulgent reflection, let’s move on to business…

(Drumroll)…

(Tumbleweed)…

The chap from National Windscreens called this afternoon. They have found a replacement screen and can fit it for us tomorrow. We are officially saved!!!! Hooray for uncracked glass!!!!

And that’s not all. The icing on the cake of this merry Monday was the delivery of this genius piece of kit…

 

At some point this week (once we figure out how to install it) we will begin to draw energy from the sun (if it ever comes out to play again). I am still amazed that this is even possible. Sun hats off to whoever figured it out.

Road worthy?

It took three nail-biting days to get the van back from the garage. The first mechanic who tried to MOT it went home with a mysterious injury (true story), then by the time the other mechanic came to do it, the DVLA in Northern Ireland had shut for the weekend meaning they couldn’t check that the vehicle was registered, so they locked it away, alone in the cold dark garage until the Monday. If you’re in any kind of hurry to get an MOT done, don’t hand your vehicle over to a Cornish mechanic who says it’ll be done “dreckly”.

Fortunately we weren’t in any great hurry as we were living it up at my folk’s B&B in St Ives, celebrating my Mum’s big sixty. Because I am her one and only daughter, and because I live in a van, I was rewarded with the best room in the house, much to my nieces’ dismay. So for one glorious week we were sleeping in a super king-size bed with soft designer bed linen, fluffy white towels and the best scalp-battering power shower in the history of mankind. Sigh (now a distant memory).

Imagine our surprise come the Monday afternoon when the garage phoned to say that the golden beast had passed the MOT, and that the final bill was a wonderfully unchanged £40. I didn’t realise it was possible to feel relief and disappointment at the same time. It is.

It took a while to get back into the swing of van life after that. Partly because we were reminded how much easier it is to live in a lovely spacious sturdy on-grid building and partly because Rodney has been back and forth working on that there fillum for the past few weeks, thus shitting all over the holiday vibes. We’re currently waiting for confirmation of filming dates for September and October, which would put our Europe departure back considerably. That doesn’t particularly fill me with joy but Rodney is already counting his chickens and bartering them for extra special European treats and adventures, so I’m not totally against it.

In the meantime we’re back on the road again, heading north for a while, chasing the rain (unintentionally) and the good times. My mum has just sent me a shiny new smart phone so that I can update this here blog more easily and regularly, reducing the number of ‘are you still alive?’ phone calls she has to make. FUN!

Below is a light smorgasbord of our recent adventures to help fill in the gaps caused by my tardy blogging (I’m not sure if I can use smorgasbord in this context?!) and bring things up to date…

Getting happily windswept atop a hill at Boscastle…

Rodney became one with nature on his own private safari…

Then he threw a spear at me…

Then he stunk the van out for three days with this bony old trout (this was before he stunk the van out with badger shit after rolling around the fields, drunk, in his best suit, but I don’t have any pictures of that)…

Me pretending to wait for a train by the side of this old disused railway station (comic genius that I am)…

Rodney’s first ever visit to Newquay, Cornwall…

£2 a pint (the view is free), Sailors, Newquay…

The time we found prawn and mangetout gyoza in the reduced section at Marks & Spencers, bought three packs and ran out to the car park to cook them there and then (because we’re wild!)…

Go to the Eden Project, get in line at the Roskilly kiosk, buy shitloads of hazelnut & baobab ice-cream. Put it all in your mouth. All of it. That’s right (You can thank me later)…

The Great British holiday… Hmmm, 14 degrees and raining… Let’s hit the beach! (St Ives, Cornwall)

Older but not wiser, my nieces made a piñata for my Mum’s birthday celebrations. Only we took the piñata away as soon as the blindfold went on her and then cried laughing as, unawares, she beat the shit out of her pear tree…

A typical van meal (all grilled on the BBQ), when we’re not eating curry…

The time that Rodney was chased out of a field by giant cows when we were trying to find a shortcut home. And I accidentally wet myself laughing…

Nope, we’re definitely going to have to go the long way round…

Adjusting to van life

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We’ve been living in the mighty gold van for almost a month now. So ‘how’s it going?’ I hear you ask. Well, as you may have perhaps guessed it’s been a bit of a bumpy ride with numerous metaphorical (and real) potholes along the way.

The biggest metaphorical pothole (aside from the mini heatwave that left our tin can totally uninhabitable) was the discovery of rain water seeping in through the skylight last week. Yes, you read that correctly, the sh*****g f*****g roof leaks.

You’d think we’d know this already, seeing as we were working on the van in a very wet Ireland for two months. But noooo! It turns out that if you park the van at a particular angle (i.e. the exact angle it was parked on Rodney’s parent’s drive) the rain just runs off. It was mere luck that kept us dry through our first few rainstorms. Unfortunately that luck ended last Monday when we parked on the flattest patch of land in England and woke up to a raging torrent (a bit of a drip). We’re now only able to park on slopes until ‘Bodge a job Rod’ (business cards are on the way) gets what he needs to finish the repairs.

Soggy jim-jams aside, we’re starting to feel pretty good about living. The main thing that we struggled with in London was the feeling that life was passing us by; that there was never any time to do anything except work and sleep. We have very literally just bought ourselves some time. It’s not a massive amount of time (coz time is money yo!) but it feels significant.

For now we’re still figuring out how to live in a tiny space, and how to avoid killing each other when living in a tiny space. I’m happy to report that we are both still alive. We’re no further along in terms of a plan, but there are some big decisions on the horizon! We took the van into the garage this morning for its MOT and all future plans rest on the outcome of this momentous occasion. Fingers and toes are currently crossed. The results of this standard £40 test will determine whether we travel across Europe in a golden van this winter… or book ourselves flights to India / New Zealand / Japan instead. I’m not entirely sure which outcome we’ve got our fingers and toes crossed for to be honest?!

In the meantime here are a few highlights from our first month driving across our great british lands…

The fence appeared to be the only thing stopping these lovely bovines from humping the golden beast (Peak District):

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Banana pancakes for breakfast (every breakfast):

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Suspension bridge (Forest of Dean):

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Moments after Rodney (part-time vegetarian) said ‘I’m glad I chose the chicken instead of that pork loin, I can hear the pigs squealing from here’, this little chicken crept up behind him with an unmistakable look of judgement in her tiny eyes:

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A very green place (somewhere in the peak district):

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Cheesy chips and a cuppa tea at ‘The Regent Restaurant’ (Weston Super Maaaaare):

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Not a bad place to do engine repairs (Stratford-Upon-Avon):

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Foraging for wild garlic- delicious! (Forest of Dean):

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Wild mushroom foraging bounty- shroom roulette (Cheddar Gorge):

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Peace and quiet and spidery sunsets (South Downs):

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And here are some early tips for living in a van and for life in general (all lessons learned the hard way)…

  • Do check for leaks before you set off
  • Don’t expect to get a phone signal or wifi in rural England
  • Don’t expect to know what day it is
  • Don’t drive through a campsite at night (people will HATE you)
  • Do pull over immediately if the van starts to shake and shudder
  • Don’t wear skinny jeans on an eight mile hill walk on a sunny day

Good morning campers!

So rewind to last Friday, I was knee-deep in curtain fabric not knowing my arse from my elbow, Don was discovering new weird and wonderful broken things under the bonnet and with only 20 hours to go before we were due on the ferry Rodney’s stressy head veins looked like they were about to explode (all over my newly upholstered cushions). A reprieve came in the form of a phone call at 2pm telling us that the film dates were being rescheduled to later in July. We wasted mere seconds celebrating before diving for the phone to amend our ferry booking. For £31 we bought ourselves an extra day to get the van ready. I don’t know why we decided that just one extra day would be enough- could’ve really done with an extra week- but somehow, with the help of the wider Tosh clan, we made it onto that ferry on Sunday morning… and we bloody drove on, not a tow truck in sight! Here we are 30 seconds after “moving in” to our new home on wheels, and 30 seconds before we hit the road (for realsies!):

The crossing from Belfast to Liverpool was eight long hours and we used the time to steal HP sauce satchets (for emergencies) and to try to figure out what to do when we arrived in Liverpool. We decided that we should drive to a forest because that sounded like a solid plan. We drove off the ferry and no less than 3 miles down the road we realised that we were in trouble. The van was shaking so violently we thought it might actually break apart. We pulled off the motorway and drove into a creepy industrial estate and stepped outside to find this:

 

It was a joyful moment! Flat tyres are easy- vans breaking apart for no reason are not so easy (apparently). Of course, dealing with the flat tyre would have been easier still if our jack was a couple of inches higher (Rodney had to let down the spare in order to get it on and then pump it up again).

We tentatively set off again, marvelling at what a smooth ride we have (when all four tyres are intact). Within an hour we had arrived at Delamere forest, complete with owls, bunny rabbits and whispering trees (it really was a solid plan). We were too knackered to cook so reverted to our 15 yr old selves and ate Pot Noodles and cheese sandwiches before promptly passing out. Classy:

On Monday morning we woke up, made tea and wandered through the trees marvelling at the wilderness and proclaiming ourselves lucky bastards.

After many years of dreaming and many months of preparations it would appear that we are now fulltime van-dwellers, gypsies if you like. After spending so much time looking to the future it may come as no surprise that we now need to learn how to live in the present- which may prove quite challenging when it takes 15 minutes to boil water on the hob (pot noodles are not a convenience food).

Good morning campers- everything might just be awesome!

A very official start date

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Tomorrow wasn’t awesome, but it was better. Don and Rodney repaired the alternator and fitted the shiny new radiator. Rodney’s brother made and fitted a safe and they reinforced the pull-down bed, replaced the halogen lights with energy-saving LEDs, and fitted new locks to the door and all compartments. I put a second coat of white paint all over the interior and cleaned up everyone’s mess (yet to expand my skills). I also bought material which I plan to turn into lovely curtains for the front windows (soon to expand my skills).

Then Hollywood called requesting that the boy wonder return to London before the end of the month for more adventures in pretend space. And so we did the unthinkable, we bit the bullet and we booked a ferry from Belfast to Liverpool on Saturday 27 June. So that’s that, we have a brand new and very official start date for moving into the van and hitting the road. Holy shit!

On Wednesday we took the van on a 70 mile test drive. She performed admirably and fuel consumption is at least a third better than we were expecting. We celebrated with fire and cider and cheese.

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On Thursday I sat outside in the cloud (sun appears to be a foreign concept in Northern Ireland) drinking a cup of tea and I thought to myself ‘something is going to happen’. It was a fleeting, unsettling thought and I may have a future career in soothsaying.

On Friday we were woken by a phone call from Rodney’s cousin. Granny Betty had phoned, she’d fallen over and couldn’t walk (she’d shuffled down the stairs on her bum to get to the phone). An ambulance was taking her to the hospital with a suspected broken hip. When we got to the hospital she was still in the ambulance. The gas and air and morphine were doing little to numb the pain so they’d had to give her more of everything. The paramedic said he thought the hip must be shattered.

We were in A&E for 5 hours whilst they did X-Rays and scans and I lost count of the number of people who came over to say hello- passing nurses, visitors, other injured folk- they all knew her, or knew of her, or were somehow related. “I’m Mary’s wee girl”, “My Granny was your first cousin”, “I used to live next to your son” etc etc. Everyone just knew everyone.

It occurred to me that had I been rushed to hospital in London under similar circumstances, I wouldn’t have known anybody, nobody would have known me, nobody would have been related to me, and it would have been a royal pain in the arse for family to come visit me. I always said that one of my favourite things about London was the anonymity. I’m now not so sure.

In the end ‘a wee fracture’ was the diagnosis and GB was ambulanced off to a hospital in Derry that knows how to deal with that sort of thing. She had to wait until Monday morning to get a partial hip replacement and I’m pleased to say she’s doing well (or as well as can be expected for an 83 year old chain smoker who can no longer walk) and may even be home again by the end of the week.

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Now, here’s the thing… the last time Rodney and I went off travelling (2011) my Nan died. I wholly regret that we chose to go away when we did- she’d told me months before that she’d be done within a year, but as I couldn’t really comprehend such a thing I guess I just didn’t believe her. It is my one and only regret in life.

We’re yet to have a serious adult discussion on the topic, but given the week’s events it’s starting to weigh heavily. Are we really about to feck orf again and allow history to repeat itself? Rodney has two very fragile grannies and, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but father Don is pretty sick too. We could spend a year or so closer to home so that Rodney can get some quality time, or we could get the ferry to Spain in September as originally intended knowing that when we leave this Saturday some goodbyes will likely be permanent and we may be flying back before too long for funerals. Quite the predicament.

If we postpone the ferry and spend the winter in Ireland, would we not just be two chilly unemployed people living in a van, waiting for the grim reaper? Would Rodney persist in wearing (holey) socks and sandals?

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I guess time will tell. Stay tuned… watch this hole… etc.

The big day is here!

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Is it b*ll*cks! We’ve pushed back our departure date so many times now I’m starting to wonder whether we have any concept of time at all. The big day is certainly not here, nor does it seem to be fast approaching. I now understand how Hasta Alaska ended up spending 5 months camped outside a Mexican mechanics (watch the whole sorry story here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8A20RWnMOf0- it pretty much encapsulates how we’re feeling today, minus the tequila).

The good news of course is that Rodney is back from London (which was every bit as exciting as he hoped it would be) so we can now return to the process of ‘getting our shit together’ and crack on with repairs. Tomorrow.

In the meantime I think it would make me feel a little better to have a mini moan. Because it needs to be said… getting your shit together is not easy when the world is full of so much incompetence. Today we had some curtain hooks arrive and we were so shocked that they were actually the right ones and not faulty that we danced around the room for five minutes. The luck really does end there. The LED lights that we were waiting patiently for turned out to be faulty.  The replacement blinds arrived and they too turned out to be faulty, again. The new alternator belt we fitted turned out to be the wrong size (actually that was our fault) and fell off.

And in other cheery news Rodney and Don flushed the engine radiator and a whole load of shite came out of it. Unfortunately, it would seem that the shite was the only thing stopping the radiator from leaking, so we’ve now had to order a new radiator. We’ve found some rot in the flooring so now need to replace a floor panel, because we really know how to do that. I just broke the step. Rodney just spilled an entire bottle of glue in the glove compartment. THE MITES ARE REPRODUCING!

I’m going to go and buy a bottle of tequila. Actually I don’t really like tequila. I’m going to go and buy beer. Lots of bottles of beer. And then we’re going to get our shit together.

We’re also going to put this everywhere because the label is so utterly convincing…

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*I apologise for the amount of “shits” and “shites” in the above

**Tomorrow is going to be Awesome

“The force is strong with this one”

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We had big plans to get our shit together and sort the van out once and for all this week. But then Rodney got “the call” and he ran off into the sunset, leaving me and the van lying by the wayside (Rodney’s parent’s drive), lost and broken and so casually abandoned.

I can’t say I blame him really. Seeing his little face light up when he got “the call”, I knew there was only one way that this was going to pan out. There was no way I was going to stand in the way of him fulfilling another childhood dream. (He still hasn’t forgiven me for dragging him away from the baggage reclaim in Delhi airport before he had a chance to accost Ian McKellan with “a bag is never late Sir Ian, nor is it early, it arrives precisely when it means to”. I maintain that he was probably a bit tired after the long flight and wouldn’t have appreciated Rodney’s hilarity- you can thank me in your own time Ian).

So the call was an invitation to work as a stand-in for a certain character on a certain sci-fi film. If you can’t recall what a stand-in does, then maybe this will jog your memory:

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That said, I’m not really sure what being a stand-in for this certain character would entail. Same as usual I expect… lots of standing in. Dreamy stuff!

Ah but there’s more! For no sooner had he jetted off to London than the phone rang again… “another call” (this is exhausting), this time offering work on the new James Bond film. Two childhood dreams in one week, should have bought a lottery ticket.

And so he’s gone and here am I, keeping the other dream alive, like a champ, an internet shopping champ (still searching for that illusive blowy air motor). Van worries aside I’m pretty content. I have fully mastered the art of relaxation and I am in love, with this wee dote…

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She is called Lucy, she is a Jack Russell / Yorkie cross and was bought (saved) by Rodney’s parents for £40 from travellers, a little over a year ago. She has a sticky-out ribcage on one side where she’s been kicked or thrown, and sometimes she gets a bit scared. But mostly she’s happy and awesome. She’s very intelligent and she gives cute hugs. Her childhood dreams are just to be loved.

Rodney who?