New Beginnings

Well, here I sit, in my recently acquired second-hand tent in the middle of a field, about to embark on another nomad adventure.  

It's been around six years since my campervan Gomez was stolen, and I moved back indoors.

Coming back from work one day in 2016, I found that the van I'd been living in for the last three years was gone, along with all of my favourite possessions, clothes, and some precious items that were irreplaceable. 

In one day, my life completely changed. The van I'd spent over a year converting into a cosy home was no more, and I had to find myself a place to settle for a while until I could decide what to do next. 

Luckily, two weeks before my van was stolen, I'd found a little off-grid cottage, which I'd agreed to rent for a tiny monthly fee. 

It was far from work, and I hadn't been planning to live there full-time, but the loss of Gomez forced a change of plans, and I found myself moving into that little cottage entirely. 

During the week, I would travel to Leeds for work, an hour's drive each way, and then return to my little cottage in the dark and quiet countryside at night. 

Idyllic, you're probably thinking.

And during the summer weather, it was. 

But then winter came and the field I had to drive over to get to the cottage was too boggy, meaning I had to walk from the top of the field down into the cottage garden. 

That was fine until I needed to bring in shopping, swap leisure batteries, or fetch anything else heavy. Then, I had to use a wheelbarrow. 

Add to that the hungry wood fires and cold stone floors, which allow the damp to seep in from underneath, and winter at the cottage was a pretty miserable existence. 

For a couple of years, I rented a room from a friend who lived close to my work, and I would go home to the cottage at weekends. 

This worked quite well because it meant I had the luxuries of running water and warmth during the work week and the peaceful tranquillity of off-grid life on weekends. 

I started to get comfortable, and van life slowly faded into the background.

Then lockdown came, and my workplace became remote. Once the restrictions were lifted, we never went back to the office, and so I found myself with much more freedom to roam. 

Since then, I've moved around quite a bit. I'm a pet sitter, which allows me to live in different places, sometimes for weeks at a time. In between the sits, I usually find short-term lodgings.

Life was enjoyable and comfortable until last year when I broke my arm and my leg quite badly in a climbing accident. I spent six weeks in the hospital, and when I came out, I needed a place to stay during my recovery. 

I put an advert on spareroom.com, asking for a rental where I wouldn't be sharing with anyone else as I needed quiet and space for my recovery. 

A lovely lady replied to ask if I'd like to rent her house. She was living with a parent who was also recovering from a serious operation.

It was the perfect fit for both of us and so I found myself living in Darlington, in a lovely newly built terraced house, all to myself.

I was in a wheelchair for a few months and then on crutches.

The shock of being unable to go outdoors and do anything I loved was horrible. I basically had to become a couch potato.

My leg took longer than average to heal. Over a year and counting, in fact. 

I go for an X-ray next week to check if the bones have finally finished healing. Then, the surgeon will decide if the plates need to be removed. 

It's been a long, hard slog to regain my movement and freedom, but I'm finally coming out the other side. 

Six months ago, with the terrace rental coming to an end, I decided maybe it was time to settle down and buy a house of my own. 

I found a lovely little quarter house close to the sea and set the ball in motion. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't to be. The process was very long, and what appeared at first to be a chain-free purchase ended up being in a very long chain. 

While I waited for things to complete, I started to get cold feet.

Half of me was super excited to make myself a little nest.

The other half was freaking out and warring against the permanence of owning a house,  screaming at me to keep my freedom and get back on the road. 

I started to think of ways to do both. Maybe I could Airbnb the house during summer and live in it myself during winter.

I had a pretty good plan worked out, and the house was a 12-minute drive from the sea, so I think the Airbnb idea would have worked quite well. 

Then, last month, the purchase chain fell apart when one of the houses decided to pull out. The owner of the house I was buying said that she'd changed her mind and wanted to stay put for a while, and that was that.

I found myself in a position where I suddenly had options again.

I'd already given notice to my landlady, and I had some pet-sitting gigs lined up for the month of August, so I didn't really need to worry about finding accommodation until September.

Slowly, that part of me that had been screaming to get back on the road again began to get louder. 

What if... 

What if I didn't just get another rental right away?

What if I just booked a campsite for the week between my two pet sits? 

What if after the second pet sit, I booked onto another campsite for the last week of August? 

What if the weather isn't terrible in September and October, and camping is still feasible? 

How long can I get away with the nomad lifestyle with just a tent and a car?..

So here I am. In my tent. 

With all of these what-ifs buzzing around in my head, I've found it difficult to make any serious effort to find a new place to live.

But I'm okay with that. 

I'm taking things one week at a time. I have savings ready to put down a deposit on a rental if I need it. Or to pay for an Airbnb or hotel if I get desperate. 

I'm just going to see where this road takes me.

Next week, I hand the keys back to my landlady and head off to start my pet-sitting gig in Leeds. After that, I'll camp for a week just outside of Durham. 

Then I'm up in Aberdeen for another pet sit.

After that, who knows.

I feel lucky to be able to embrace this change of events and go back on the road, if only for a little while. 

Maybe going back to a nomadic life for a while will make me realise that I'm ready to live in one place, and I'll be able to fully commit to finding myself a little house.

Or, I may love it so much that I don't want to go back indoors for years. 

Only time will tell. But one thing is sure, it'll be an adventure.

Fox