Contemplation & Spinning Wheels

It seems today the calamities are otherwise unavailable. Perhaps off pestering someone else, or just lurking around the corner waiting to pounce like a freshly divorced cougar at the bar after 27 shots of Sambuca and 9 months of lock down.

I sit here in the back of my Transit van in almost silence, just the hum of my cheap Chinese diesel heater doing its best to dehydrate my delicate skin, and my mind wanders as I peer out of the window and watch the rain lashing across the fields.You shouldn't stop these little moments of contemplation. They're good for the soul. They help to put life back into perspective. My mind is always so busy, constantly battling thoughts and poking unwanted memories with a hot sticky stick thing, provoking them to resurface and terrorise me once again. So I try and use these moments to clear my mind, refocus and reset.It gives you a chance to ignore that weird noise, forget about the fact you've forgotten to switch the fridge on yet again...

One of the many joys of van life, is nearly always having a different beautiful view every day. Bored of that view? Just move your van 10 feet and bazinga! A new view, new opportunities for contemplating moments.

I decided I was bored of the current view. I want a different one. Not wanting to go outside and get boots thick with wet sand, I squeeze my rather unathletic frame between the seats to the front, legs split much further than is comfortable for a bloke, boot wedged tighter than two feral dogs entwined in a lustful position. A thought pops into my head "is this it? Am I going to be stuck here for weeks, Starving, slowly, until I lose enough weight that my boot drops off?

After several minutes of laying horizontal doing my own solo version of twister, my foot is free. Clambering into the drivers seat, I start Garry up (cheers for that kids ) and proceed to the bottom of the hill in the carpark. This'll do right here. Nice view, similar but different all the same. No sooner had I squeezed back through the gap, again resembling a tube of Primula (with chives) having its contents squashed out by Thor's Hammer, dozens of cars pull into the carpark. Crap. The local dogging meet up. Dogging is a gang of dog walkers, right? I'm not staying down here. I endure the nut squashing clamber through the seats once again, and with watery eyes saunter back up the slope. But I'm not sauntering up the slope. I'm still at the bottom! Slipping, sliding, juddering... Damn it. Stuck. Again...

Oh hello calamity, my old friend... Nice to see you again! What's that? You thought I'd like this view better? It'll do I guess...

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