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The life I choose

Jan28

Today my mind wandered around the nooks and crannies of the question of what I am doing here. Not here on the blog. I mean here – in this physical, mental and emotional space – and perhaps not even what I am doing here, but rather, what I want to be doing here. What am I hoping to achieve?

My 20 exercise books hold clues to what I want to work on over the next year and beyond. They are entitled:

  1. Custom Canine Care (this is the name of my business)
  2. Running a pet services business
  3. Marketing and SEO
  4. Cooking in a van
  5. Stuff!
  6. Foraging for food
  7. Living the life I choose
  8. Multiple income streams
  9. Living in a van
  10. Life with less waste
  11. Making money on eBay
  12. Not for profit business practice
  13. Dog friendly pubs and walks
  14. Blogs
  15. A year like no other
  16. My income 2016
  17. Current notes (just scrap really, where I record all my day to day must do items, phone numbers, addresses, wages, invoicing etc).
  18. Massage therapy
  19. Blank
  20. Blank

Each is designed for making notes, recording thoughts and things learned from audios and books and life. Many are potential embryonic books themsleves. Some will no doubt slip into disuse and oblivion, possibly to be resurrected at some future ‘right moment’. Possibly not. Perhaps what I want to do above all else is to try to communicate the reality, that our lives are our own. That we can live the life we choose minute by minute, day by day, and that such a life can be fluid and undefined. So often we live under a limiting sense of inadequacy, by which I mean we often think (dream) of doing things, but never explore them fully because we feel unable, constrained by a life we chose decades before and limited by an internal feeling that our health, fitness, inner strength, physical resources, mental capacity, natural ability and so on are just not “enough”.

I am not suggesting that anyone else should live the life I choose, for that is mine and my journey is unique to me. But whatever you have inside you – that draws you – is the life that you can choose for yourself. I grew three children from scratch before I ever got around to growing myself. Often times we expanded each other and I met some truly catalytic people along the way, but in the end I had to choose for myself  – essentially to “suck it and see”. This is the life I choose: To try. To test. To learn. To grow. To try. Then as the Levellers song so eloquently puts it:

“…and if this life is not for me, then I will choose another.”

I took a little look into cupboard two today and realised that I haven’t opened it before over the past month. That seems a good indication that the things in there might not be needed and – on further investigation – this turns out to be the case.

It contains:

  • a plastic tub of decorative houseware, such as candles and my 50th birthday present from Alison and Lloyd, which is a framed drawing of the three of us in rat form,
  • an air compressor that might only rarely be needed to re-inflate a tyre in an emergency,
  • a spare wash-bag,
  • an empty plastic container.

I decide to remove all of these things, stow the air compressor away under the seats, put the tub of houseware into the bunk space (less accessible) and take the rest out of the van when I am next in Newcastle. Instead, I have filled the space with two plastic tubs full of dog stuff (leads, harnesses, bowls, treats etc) that have been on the bunk, as they have been used quite frequently over the last few weeks. Tomorrow I travel back to Newcastle to spend some time with Pete. We’re going to a Stephen Wilson gig on Saturday evening at the City Hall. Looking forward to it!

Living in a motor home

Jan27

The van, décor and stuff. Part 1

I thought you might like a closer look at where and how I am living during my time in the van. Rather than giving you an overview and then zooming in, I have decided to begin with the detail and then end with the whole. The back of the van contains the ‘kitchen’ and ‘bathroom’ as a strip across the van that is just under two feet deep. Next is a strip that houses the wardrobe on the left (standing facing the rear), with space right across the van to a step and back door on the right. This strip is roughly the same depth. After this is the table plus two bench seats (which deconstructs to form the bed) on the left and the fridge plus one side bench seat on the right. These fill the rest of the van other than the cab space, and the over-cab bunk area (which I use as a big store room).

I have a lot of visually pleasing stuff to cover (and distract from) the set of ‘kitchen’ cupboards that run in two strips down the sides of the van, overhead. There are two good-sized windows under these cupboards and one smaller one on the back wall, above the cooker. The cab is also fully glazed, but I tend to cover these windows with reflective insulating covers while I am parked up, both for privacy and for warmth. Actually, the windows in the back aren’t glazed at all, as they are plastic!

van2

Right – Cupboard 1. Overhead and butting onto the side of the wardrobe. Covered in rattie pump clips from The Rat Brewery. The end wall (side of the wardrobe) house:

  • a rat clock
  • a thermometer
  • a carbon monoxide alarm
  • the controls for the two on board batteries and the water pump
  • two plastic hooks
  • pump clips: Titanic – Iron Curtain, Allendale Brewery – Wolf, Weird Beard Brew Co. – Mariana Trench.

This area is also home to a run of net flower fairy lights in mixed colours. These plug into the mains and provide my ‘mood’ lighting when I am not working.

 

van1Cupboard ‘one’ itself houses two plastic lidded tubs (I have a lot of these), a beautiful deer tin that Karen gave me biscuits in at Christmas and random small containers for hair bobbles and jewellery.

Tub 1: Electricals, such as my digital SLR camera, USB stick, card readers, iPod charger and headphones. My kindle and external hard drive also live in here when I am not using them.

van3

Tub 2: 20 school-type exercise books each of which pertains to a different area of interest that I am looking to research and write about this year. Everything from the somewhat obvious Custom Canine Care and Stuff, to the eagerly anticipated dog friendly pubs in the North East.

The tin: Make up.

van7

I’m not a great jewellery wearer and I have nothing of any value in that regard. I think this is one area where I am going to have a purge in the future.

Speaking of purges, some of you might be wondering how I got on, on Monday? Well I managed to clear up a bit and decided that my essential oils were better kept at Pete’s, along with a spare hairdryer and extra blanket that belongs to him anyway. I moved a jumper  – destined for a charity shop – and a small freezer bag that I can’t imagine using until the summer (if at all), to the garage at my (rented) house. Still some way to go, but baby steps.

 

 

 

Minimalism and Stuff

Jan22
Mak

Gentle giant Mak

Today through till Monday, I am house sitting for Mak and Fern, two gorgeous retrievers who I have known for some time. This is a regular, once a month, long weekend booking and its a beautiful environment. The ambience is peaceful and it feels rather luxurious to have so much space! Most appreciated is constant, secure internet access and a fabulous cooker!

2015 was a year of rethinking my requirement for physical things. Most impacting in this regard was the audiobook Minimalism: Live a meaningful life by Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, which I devoured. These guys don’t just show you how to reduce the amount of Stuff in your life but they offer an attractive alternative; contributing to relationships, people and society. Last year, however, it was the letting go of Stuff part that I really needed help with.

I came to realise that although I didn’t actively pursue material possessions, or accumulate them for the joy of the purchase or the comfort of ownership, I was indeed an accumulator, because I kept useful things I didn’t need in case one day I might need them. Once I understood that, it was relatively easy to take everything that I owned and divide it up as follows:

  1. Stuff I use every (or most) day(s).
  2. Stuff I use regularly (at least once a month).
  3. Stuff I keep because it has sentimental value.
  4. Stuff I rarely or never use.
  5. Stuff I keep because it will (okay, might) be useful one day.

Groups 1 and 2 seem to be straightforward keepers, but I had learned that it was worth asking whether I really needed them. The last three categories are things that are definitely worth considering letting go of. Minimalism: Live a meaningful life makes some heartfelt, liberating comments on our ties to ‘sentimental value’ stuff.

Then I learned to look at stuff and ask questions:

  • Does this add value to my life?
  • What does owning this cost me in terms of space (clutter, storage etc), time (organisation, cleaning, distraction, impact on relationships etc), money (ongoing costs, inherent value etc)?
  • What will happen to it, if I decide I don’t need it?
Fern

Lovely Fern

This last question was further complicated by my ever growing desire to reduce my waste. Unwanted stuff can at best be sold or given away to someone who will use it, or given to a third party (for example a charity shop) who will sell it or give it away. Stuff that is no longer usable can hopefully be recycled, or at worst, thrown away.

So began my very happy relationship with eBay, and I now sell all kinds of things to increase my income when I need to, but that’s another story.

Around the middle of 2015, once the Big Adventure was a certainty, and I knew what was happening to my house, I started to sort through all of my things. Essentially everything fell into one of these categories.

  • Things I will use in the van (Winter) – now in the van.
  • Things I will use in the van (Summer) – now in the garage at my (rented) house
  • Things I won’t use in the van but want to keep – now in the garage at my (rented) house
  • Things I will leave in the rented house (or Joe’s flat) – now no longer considered to be mine.
  • Things I can’t fit in the van but want to use regularly – now at Pete’s house.
  • Things I no longer feel the need to own. These things went on eBay, were sold at a car boot, were given to charity or the cat and dog shelter, went for recycling – and a very few went to landfill.

For most people in more usual circumstances this list can be as simple as keep/don’t keep/maybe keep. My own process was pretty straightforward and my attitude to the stuff that surrounded me certainly followed that manageable thought process. I kept what I knew I used and needed. I split the house stuff between the rented house and Joe’s new flat. I sold or gave away everything else except for a small filing cabinet of work/house archives and two modest packing boxes of stuff I felt I wouldn’t need for the next year, but didn’t (yet) want to get rid of – mostly books, stationary and games. I kept one A4 folder of stuff that fell into the sentimental value category, kids art work, my own angsty teenage poetry and the like.

I’m heading towards the end of my first month in the van and already the constraints of ‘tiny home’ living make me want to re-evaluate what I was so sure I would need to carry with me. This Sunday, I intend to park up outside the old house and strip the van out, clean it inside and then put back only what I really need. Will let you know how that goes.

 

Coming home, well-being and Stuff!

Jan21

Today is transition day; the day in the five day cycle when I head back to Newcastle to do some hands-on dog care and catch up with Pete and the kids. I was struck last week, as to just how good it feels to have all my (now adult) children in Newcastle again, all in their own separate living spaces and all thriving within their different choices. For the first time in a very long time, I feel that they have each found their own habitat (the natural environment of an organism), where they can flourish and I no longer need to worry about their well-being. I say worry, but for those of you who know me, the choice of word will jar like tripping over an uneven paving stone. I don’t worry! Indeed, I am usually the queen of “laid back”, but what I do experience in bucket-loads is an overwhelming sense of being responsible for the welfare of those around me. To some degree, this has always been my Achilles heel.

Indeed, the reason why the 24 hour presence of multiple dogs in my home, 365 days a year, took its toll was as much to do with the burden of responsibility, as it was the lack of a social life or the gradual destruction of the house. My recurring ‘nightmares’ never featured coming home to find a hole in the arm of my leather settee, or the beautiful blinds that Lloyd and I chose together, a mangled, dog-chewed mess on the floor  – though these things were the reality of my daily experience. No! In the divine depths of REM sleep, I could generally be found discovering unkempt and underfed animals in the far flung corners of my home, which had morphed seamlessly into a smallholding with numerous hiding places. Not feeling responsible for everyone else’s well-being is something I am trying to learn. Nurturing my own well-being (which historically has often been neglected), even more so.

Wolf 2 - the motorhome

Wolf 2 – the motorhome

Which brings me back to today and my journey home along the A690 and the A19. [Aside: I wrote that instinctively, but am now wondering about home and where my home really is. I am pretty certain that ‘home’ is not a house (not mine, nor Pete’s), nor is it Wolfie… she’s utilitarian, a means to an end. I do feel that coming back to Newcastle is a homecoming, but whilst I clearly have an affinity to the city, I wonder whether home is actually wherever my people are?] As I journeyed I listened to a piece on Radio 4 about consumerism, minimalism and our relationship with stuff. This is one of the areas of life that I would like to write about at length this year. Stuff. I haven’t – yet -whittled my own stuff down to only what I can fit into a very small van. I have a few possessions at Pete’s, along with two large boxes of eBay sales stuff. My own house I’m renting to my daughter, Imogen, and her partner, Chris. I’ve rented it furnished, just because that made sense, but in my mind the furniture is part of the house, not “my stuff”. I have a few boxes of things I won’t need in the van – but don’t want to get rid of – left in the garage, plus boxes of Scuttling Gourmet; my book on rat nutrition. I’ve never been materialistic, but I have always had loads of ‘useful’ stuff. Things I would hold onto in case I needed them one day (never). Clothes in every size between the UK16 I am now and the 10-12 I aspire to be. Craft stuff. Dog Stuff. Rat stuff. Kids stuff. Spare stuff. Stuff!