Full-Timing - more to think about. And tomorrow, somewhere new.

Finally I am in my beloved Outer Hebrides and starting slowly to unwind. I have needed time and space to think since October last year, and for one reason and another it's been snatched away. Obviously, those times were not the right times to think about future life.

Further to the last post, 'Full timing - are you Tough Enough?' I've watched a brilliant video and read a brilliant blog entry.

First off, the video - Tomorrow Somewhere New


Click on the name above to watch it. I love everything about this film. The style, the content, the participants, the message, the art, the feeling of it... and the lovely starring couple have the most amazing teeth!


Of course, there is more to living on the road than portrayed in this film. They don't show the loo emptying, setting up in the rain and snow, or the man sitting at his computer for hours and hours making a living. But dreams are good.



I realise while I'm here in the Hebrides that I need to unplug from the internet a bit. A couple of entries on Facebook made me realise this. A caravan page that I deliberately don't follow asked the question 'Airstreams - love 'em or hate 'em?' and a friend of mine innocently tagged me in his response, saying that I owned one. So of course, I get to see the diatribe of comments. Ugh. So much narrow-minded judgmentalism. I asked for the tag to be removed but by now I was already wound up.

Here and now in the Lochboisdale Cafe, I checked out one of my favourite blogs on my reading list, Notes from a Nomadic Knitter by my friend and fellow Airstreamer Tracy. 

Tracy had written a brilliant post that hit the nail on the head as far as I was concerned... Just because we like Airstreams, we still have other stuff to do. Sometimes it is lovely when you meet a like-minded nomad, be they in a £100k A-Class motorhome or a £50 tent. That 'connection' is a joy to behold, but sadly it's the exception rather than the rule. The rule is that you'll meet people who will tell you what they think even if you have not invited their opinion. Often, there is a complete insensitivity to the fact that you are busy setting up or breaking down, or you simply want to get your head down. It's not being antisocial, it's being tired and maybe hungry.

Anyway, one of the upsides of an Airstream is that you're noticed for good reasons too. The lovely folks in the Outer Hebrides know that the Man With The Silver Carvavan is back and already I'm getting smiles and waves from familiar people.

A few more days to decompress and unplug from the internet a wee bit, then I'll keep you posted about this trip.

I feel an all-new Caravanner's Guide to the Outer Hebrides coming on too.

Fulltiming - Are you tough enough?

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When thinking about making the move to fulltiming, the usual considerations such as address, doctors, and other such practicalities spring to mind. But there are other factors to consider that are far less obvious. What about the social and mental implications? Are you tough enough to handle it?

Setting up the Airstream on a rural CL on a picture-postcard day, a familiar and much-repeated scenario occurred. Up rolled a lovely couple in their ancient yet trusty Hymer motorhome. 'What a lovely caravan!' the lady said as she admired my rig with a beaming smile. We engaged in conversation, and very quickly I admitted that my Airstream was my home. Immediately she 'got' it and could see the attraction. Many caravanners and motor caravanners do. However, we are but a wee minority of the general populace.

Most people out there in the ‘real world’ go about their business with little thought to alternative ways of doing things. Their opinions are formed by one-sided propaganda in all forms of media from newspapers to television, not to mention the constant bombardment of information and advertising that relentlessly attacks all of us from all angles. Yet people allow advertising and media to insult them in the most shocking ways. They actually lie down and swallow it! Why? Because fear of the unknown prevents many people from breaking out of the everyday routine, and from doing what is expected by society in general. 

That's absolutely fine. The world would be a frightfully dull place if we were all the same, shared the same opinions, and did the same thing.

However, there are very few people doing what we full-timers are doing. Young singles are generally building careers, going to the gym, and doing what they think they need to do to attract themselves a partner and secure themselves a future. Couples and families settle down and build 'solid' roots for their future, allowing themselves two weeks of holiday pleasure after 50 weeks on the treadmill. As the kids fly the nest, older couples and singles start to think about slowing down and maybe expanding their social lives, taking up golf and the like.

By no means is this observation meant as derogatory. However, don't expect any of the above people to understand why you prefer to be free. Fulltiming young singles will be popular with their mates on a sunny August day in Brighton, but the chances of meeting a partner who shares their vision are highly remote. Couples and families can expect their social circle shrink dramatically and their existing social lives dry up. As for dealing with the stigma of home-schooling your child in a caravan, that's a whole new subject for another day. Few people will see how full and rich a child's education can be when approached outwith the stifling and tunnel-visioned mainstream education system.

It's not all doom and gloom. There are of course people who totally understand the reasons and motivations for full-timing even if they choose not to make that step themselves. Real friends, the friends you can count on one hand, will stand by and support you. By the nature of where we camp, we will meet like-minded people. Fortunately for us, caravanners are the nicest people on the planet. There are other fulltimers around (thank goodness for the internet) with whom you can strike a real or a virtual friendship. 

Fulltiming retirees often head to warmer climes for the winter, and whole communities of like-minded folk spring up in campsites across the Med. The irony here is that older folk receive more support, social interraction and everyday contact with like-minded people (i.e. have bucketloads more FUN) than those do who are trapped in a house on a lonely housing estate where everyone else is out at work all day. 

Outside the confines of the caravanning community, there are few people who 'get it'. Many of them won't think twice about telling you what they think about your life choice either, despite the fact you have not invited their opinion or been so arrogant as to judge how they live their lives.

Every week I seem to end up defending the lifestyle from people who think it's funny to mock. Today's insult was that I was living in an 'Unplumbed Hellhole'. I kid you not. His comment was made from a building in a built-up area in a town this person didn't enjoy living. Here's a picture of where my rig is right now: 

 

I'm tired.

It's bloody tiring to have to constantly explain and justify why you live the way you do. When you put yourself out into the everyday world, be it at a party or even just on Facebook, you can end up feeling very lonely indeed as nobody else seems to 'get it'. As such, many fulltimers simply withdraw from wider society, keep to themselves, and only choose to associate with the very few people who support and encourage the way they live their lives.

By no means let the extradition from narrow-minded Daily Mail reading X-Factor watching automatrons prevent you from following your dreams. Just don't expect your decision to be popular or understood by everyone. Defending the lifestyle can be a grind, especially when you know that, deep down, those highly vocal critics with their tired digs and unfunny quips are secretly incredibly jealous that you have the courage, the pragmatism, the dynamism, the self-assurance, the open-mindedness, and the balls that they so obviously lack themselves. 

Cabin Fever? The darker days of November in a caravan

November 2012... I had a plan.

Previous attempts at living in a caravan had shown that the three months between November and January inclusive can be the hardest if, like me, commitments (like job) count out breaks to the snow or to the winter sun.

Having been in the holiday let business for a little while, I know that many seaside holiday homes sit empty for the six or seven weeks between the half term at the end of October and Christmas. A holiday home sitting empty is not doing its owner any favours, where some income is better than none.

So I scratched around and found a beautiful house, one that I knew, right by the sea. My most important requirement, a log burner or real fire, was met. A super-reasonable price was negotiated and we were all set.

This also made an ideal time, of course, to get the Airstream serviced.

Now, when you are living in your van, it really does you good to go through the pain of emptying it once a year to give it a thoroughly good clean, and to evaluate how necessary each individual item is. Does it really add value to your Airstreaming, or is it just one more thing to lug around and move about?

The business of moving out of the Airstream was a sad one. Unbelievably sad.

Moving into a beautiful designer beach house on a reasonable rent for seven weeks did little to raise my spirits. The furniture, while beautiful, wasn't me. This wasn't MY space, as is the Airstream. As such, I rattled about in there for six weeks not really feeling at home. I even slept in the smaller of the two bedrooms as I was uncomfortable in the ma-hoosive master bedroom. The wood burner, though, was wonderful. I so want a wood burner in my Airstream, but for me right now this is not the most practical of propositions.

The location, right on the beach, was wonderful. Nearby was Dungeness where some wonderful photographic opportunities presented themselves. But I can park my trailer there, right?

 

Dungeness Beach

 

A week before my rental was due to terminate, I moved out. I couldn't care less about the final week which was already paid for. I wanted to go back home, to MY home, the space I could call my own.

How utterly wonderful it felt to be back in my trailer and back in my home. I won't be renting a house again for such an extended period, maybe just for short holidays.

The cliche really is true. Home really is where you park it.

Fulltiming - A slow start

With the door finally shut on my bricks-and-mortar existence, the move to becoming a full-timing Airstreamer was a slow, staggered one. In fact, it is still very much a work in progress.

I recently met up with a couple of dear fulltiming friends, J&C, who decided 15 years ago to sell-up and live out their retirement on the road. It's always a pleasure to spend time in the company of such lovely and like-minded folk.

More than once at the previous UKAirstreamers' Gathering had I heard the comment 'So you're settled into fulltiming now.' Funnily enough, that comment was repeated only by people who weren't actually doing it themselves. Those who were living in their Airstreams made no such well-intentioned comment.

There are some people who seem to be able to just be able to do things straight away. You know the kind, they make a plan then just go off and do it, while everything seems to fall magically into place. If they go off on a trip, they can pack their bags in five minutes and be out of the door.

I, I'm afraid, am not one of those people. Even a simple day trip seems to take hours of planning and preparation. 'Have I got my camera? Are the batteries charged? Oh no, it looks like I need to charge the battery. What about my phone? Oh yes, that needs plugging in too. Dog stuff? Ah yes, the poo bags, the kitchen roll and antiseptic wipes in case of accidents in inappropriate places, the water bowl, the travel towel, the lead… I must remember my train pass. And my wallet. And a water bottle. And a flask. And a bag of treats for the dog. Will we be out long enough I need to take the dog's dinner too? And some snacks for me in case there's no cafe on the way. Not forgetting of course the laptop or iPad. And the internet dongle. And the charger lead. Phone charger! Have I fed the rats…?' And so on, and so on.

Such activity can be surmised as the art of faffing. And my goodness, I can faff. I can faff for England. Some people are slick, but I faff.

When slick people start their full-timing lives, I envisage that they lock the doors of their homes, drop the keys at the estate agents, hitch up their Airstream. and off they drive into their new lives with barely a passing thought to their previous existence. How I wish I could be like that. But I'm not.

It turns out that J&C had two years (two years!) living in a static caravan getting themselves prepared and set-up for their life on the road. I didn't feel so bad about the fact that, three months into my new life, I still felt in a complete state of turmoil.

Not emotional turmoil I hasten to add. Almost four months down the line since giving up my house I'm still 100% content and confident that this is the right thing for me to do. But there is still quite a lot of STUFF to sort out. Stuff...that tedious, heavy, dragging anchor of material possessions that is slowly dwindling, but doesn't magically evaporate when you hit the road. Granted, I could just take three months out and deal with it. But what a waste of springtime. And a man needs to work of course. I still need food on my plate and diesel in the truck.

It was early February that I moved out of my house and into the Airstream. In just over three months I'd say that I'm well over half way there. But I reckon it will be February next year at the earliest that I'll be settled into it with something approaching the kind of slick minimalism for which I ache and yearn.

It's a slow process if you have a life to lead while you're doing it. It took 25 years to build up the amount of stuff that I need to deal with. To have it sorted in a little over 12 months is actually pretty good going when you look at it that way.

Fulltiming Preparation

First of all, what is 'fulltiming'?

It's a term applied to spending an extended period of time living in a mobile leisure vehicle, be it a touring caravan or a motorhome. It's not to be confused with being a 'traveller' or living in a semi-permanent trailer like a park home or on a 'trailer park'.

Although some folks end up full-timing by default (the classic example is as a result of marriage breakdown), for the overwhelming majority it's a conscious lifestyle choice. It is sticking up two fingers to not only thinking inside the box, but at being trapped inside the box too. Fulltimers are truly free.

Me, I've been fulltiming on and off for about 10 years in a variety of caravans in a variety of ways. The past few years saw me fulltiming (or, as some called it, 'part-timing') for seven months of the year during the warmer months, then retreating to bricks and mortar for the winter.

Now that the house was to be sold, it was time to once again consider fulltiming.

But this time it was to be different. Very different.

All outward appearances look the same… living in the Airstream most of the year, and renting a cottage or two in pretty places for a couple of extended periods in the winter.

So why should this time be any different?

This time, I was setting up life to be free. Truly free. And that meant free of the burden of extraneous possessions.

Every time I've moved out of a house and into a caravan, I've always done so with the full intention of moving back into a house within the foreseeable future. But a couple of things have happened along the way…

In 2002, the intention was to spend six months in Tarifa in Spain. Yet I was back in the UK after three months. Why? Because the friend who had kindly offered to store a lot of my stuff unexpectedly decided to move house. While she COULD have moved all my rubbish as well, it would have been unfair of me to expect her to do so. So it was a 2,000 mile trip back…

Meanwhile, I had other stuff in various people's lofts and garages. So I was dependent on those people allowing me access to it. And I had to remember what was where. After three years, as I moved back into my house, I realised that I was moving stuff - again - that I had never even used. And probably never would.

Fast forward to 2009. My new next door neighbours had a story. They had got together five years previously, and decided to move in together. They sold one of the properties - a gorgeous warehouse conversion in London - and moved into a rented flat 'for a few months'. So all the expensive furniture and fittings from the warehouse flat went into storage.

'A few months' turned into five years. The bill for storage came to… wait for it… £7,000. And, funnily enough, when they finally moved into the beach house next door to mine, they found that none of the furniture from a trendy city warehouse conversion suited the house. Most of it was then disposed of. £7k down the swanny. 

The message here is abundantly clear, isn't it? Possessions can be an absolute pain in the jacksy. We covert them and then we are owned by them, not the other way around.

I'm not talking about the things that bring value into our lives, be it the gorgeous vase that sits in proud view on the mantelpiece, or the funny fridge magnet that makes us smile every time we see it. I'm talking about the stuff that once had value, or possibly might have value in the future, so it's hidden away in a box somewhere.

I'm talking about the old stereo that we still have after 10 years in the loft. The pile of photography magazines that we 'really will' look at again some day. The blunt tools in the shed that might come in handy one day.


As I looked around my 'personal' room in the house at all these boxes of STUFF, I felt quite heavy of heart. The urge to rent storage was overwhelming. But to rent a 7ft x 5ft room in a proper storage facility was going to cost the best part of £70 per month by the time you add insurance and stuff. That's getting on for £1000 per year. The irony was, there wasn't £1000 worth of stuff to store anyway!

Having these figures in my head made decluttering and getting rid of stuff far easier. But I still needed some strength and inspiration from an external source as well as from within.

Fortunately I found it in the book 'The Joy of Less' by Francine Jay.




http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B003UNJX4S/ref=docs-os-doi_0

Naturally, it's downloaded to Kindle on my iPad to reduce the clutter.

I really like this book and recommend it to anyone who acknowledges the need to cut down on stuff, but doesn't quite know how to go about it.

The hardest part? I threw away my old teddy bears, and I threw away the jumper that my beloved Nan knitted for me as a teenager. It still makes me feel a bit wretched to think of that even now, three months later. But, I have to admit, I also feel just that little bit less bogged down. It also helps that my Nan was a minimalist, and I could hear her voice in my head saying 'What do you want to keep that thing for? Get rid of it!'. She'd be very disappointed to think that something she gave me was weighing me down. And you know what? I don't need a jumper I'll never wear to remember what a wonderful person my Nan was, and the lovely times we had together.

Time ran out before I was ready, and the completion date loomed. My possessions filled the car four times. That's still pretty good, but still not good enough. There's still some way to go.

The rats and their stuff take up a lot of space, and I've decided now that Dougal Dog is in my life, I'll not get any more rats when my current two shuffle off. But that will hopefully be a while away yet. I have boxes and boxes of magazines in my parent's loft, all of which I have an article in. I need to keep them for the taxman and also for my own enjoyment. But what I really need to do is digitise them… but can you imagine just how long that will take? Ditto the photo albums.

A typical scene from two nights away... although only the rucksack and wheely bag is my stuff, the rest is pet related!



Full-timing epitomises going against the 'norm'. So it makes sense that decluttering and living an anti-consumption life goes hand-in-hand with it. We live in a world where we are bombarded with messages telling us that the more we possess, the happier we are. Deep down, we all know that that's not the case. The sad thing is, it means that you ALWAYS have to be on the defensive, which is time and energy consuming. I have already entered arguments and disappointed people who are trying to give me something for 'free' that I don't want.

I can't promise that decluttering will make you happy, and it's not for everybody. Some people aren't happier than when surrounded by lots of knick-knacks and their bits and bobs. 

But for me, so far I am feeling far lighter and freer. Still a long way to go, and it can be uncomfortable at times, but it's an exciting journey.