A Bumpy Ride

Recent travels have had me on edge. The roads in England have been allowed to become potholed and patched-up and it can make for a bumpy journey. It takes the thrill out of taking to the road, and it gives the impression of a nation letting itself go. Five years ago we travelled around Ireland and found the roads to be in a poor state at the time. When we returned to England you could almost hear the car and Airstream sigh with relief. Now I think ours are even worse. We have spent a lot of time near Cheltenham and I have a mental map of many of the crappest roads in and around the town, but when you move on you have a whole new set of obstacles to avoid. And you can't swerve out of the way with a trailer on the back!

A trip to Wiltshire last week had the added headache of a flat tyre on the car whilst towing along a busy, rural, two lane A road. We had passed a lay-by on the other side and had to reverse back, inch by inch, during any gaps in the traffic. Once we had managed to cross over we then had to empty the contents of our boot in order to release the spare wheel that is fixed below the car. What can you do but grin encouragingly at each other and get through it?

The rest of the journey was one of those south of England routes that keeps passing through little villages, narrowing regularly and twisting its way around the countryside. These roads might be fun to whizz around on a motorbike or in an un-hitched car, but to tow an Airstream along them is slow and requires constant and prolonged concentration. The speed limit keeps dropping for all the bends and the quaint villages. It took us three hours to travel 100 miles.

I thoroughly enjoyed being somewhere completely new, once we had arrived, but the travel itself was not a pleasure, at all.

Summertime Neighbours: Part 2

These neighbours can turn up at any time of the year. They do full-timing in a fully committed and old-school style. They spend most of their time outdoors, and I don't just mean going for lots of walks. They cook outdoors, they craft and work outdoors as much as possible. Part of the year is spent in a teepee next to a stream. This isn't the glamping version with proper furniture and pot-bellied stoves. It can be cold and damp, the ground is a bit hard to sleep on, the smoke from the fire-pit doesn't always rise out through the top. It's pretty basic, and it sounds like they might be ready to build in some comforts before long, but it also sounds as though the challenge of constantly adapting is part of the appeal, as well as living with the senses constantly stimulated by the natural environment, plus the ability to move on when it feels like it's time to do so.

I tend to think I'm lucky to be hardly separated from my surroundings. Even when I'm indoors I see the sky through the skylights, and we have a wrap-around view through wrap-around windows. But I'm such a lightweight compared with these guys.

We just spent a lovely evening in their cozy, green caravan, hearing about their adventures with unconventionality, and eating some intriguing Cotswold cheeses with a smoky chilli paste. On the way back to the Airstream we were enchanted by the Perseid meteor shower.

Summertime Neighbours

These are our neighbour's flowers. We have neighbours in the summertime. During the winter full-timing can be more quiet and solitary, in the summer we meet more long-termers. Well, that's around here anyway. We have found this friendly site with its incredibly accommodating and laid back owner, and due to the projects that Pete has been involved with recently our travels have been short, and usually starting from this same spot.

So it would appear that the combination of a really nice 'landlord', relative peace and quiet  and lots of green scenery brings people back year after year. Our opposite neighbour has been coming here for years, stays for a few weeks and then pops home for a bit to keep and eye on things there and pick up her post. A couple who spend their winters in Spain return here for about three months each summer to catch up with family and friends, attend weddings, that sort of thing.

And I've got used to seeing them. My hermit tendencies have receded just enough for me to pass the time of day, and so when Pete returns from a day of fixing up Airstreams I can let him know that after three years I have learnt somebody's name, they are 71 years old and in training to run a marathon, their next-door neighbour back home just won the lottery, and I've been asked to water someone's plants while they go away for the weekend.

Our clever Gerbera that just keeps on flowering

Hermit tendencies is a slight exaggeration, but when you live in an Airstream you can spend an awful lot of your time explaining what it is, where it's made, admitting that it costs  more than any other caravan, and why. And sometimes that's a lovely thing to do, other times I might just be trying to do my chores quickly and efficiently so that I can get on with my day. So you develop a way of making fleeting eye-contact and giving a short, friendly greeting, just enough not to be rude but brief enough to be able to move on. Often, someone will say, I didn't know they still made them. That happened yesterday and, when I offered my brief explanation it clearly wasn't brief enough and the chap who had started the 'conversation' cut me short and started to walk off. Suits me.

I know this all makes me sound pretty antisocial. But it's a common experience. Ultimately I am trying to avoid a situation that has happened too often, which is when someone, typically a middle-aged man (that's just a fact, not a judgement on age or gender) comes up to me while I'm busy, makes an opening statement like, I bet it takes a lot of cleaning. I say, no not really. He then tells me all sorts of facile misconceptions about Airstreams, or worse, tells me all about his caravan, not noticing that I am not actually asking or agreeing with any of it. He just goes on and on. He might tell me stuff I already know, but he hasn't got the perceptive skills to realise that I know stuff too, or he doesn't care, because he's a crashing bore!

There, that's what can happen. That's what has happened, a lot! And that's what I'm avoiding with my dark glasses or shifty glances. On the other hand you don't want to miss out on genuinely interested and interesting people, because there are plenty of those too, and it can make your day to have an unexpected friendly encounter. And having vented and ranted, I'll just go back to our lovely neighbours and point out that the long-termers and full-timers know about all of this and mostly respect each other's space. So you get a friendly little chat about the weather or a trip out somewhere, then move on. I know that they would help me if I needed it, and vice versa.

The Glamorous Nomad

One of the charms of moving your home to a different place is noticing the path of the sun in relation to your windows, and how that differs from your previous location. But after the first two days on our present pitch, I hadn't seen the sun, I had no idea how it might be tracking across the sky above a grimy, monotoned gloom. And then, ta dah! Another promise of Spring. I remembered my theory about my perception of the length of winter. At the moment I am convinced that this has been the longest winter ever. Then I applied my theory: It's because we were robbed of summer. The winter after a rubbish summer feels extra long.

Pete is on a course for a few days, which takes place in a suburb of Birmingham. We are staying on a farm several miles further out to the north east and I am amazed to find that there are acres and acres of clay-hued farmland, 14th century castles (privately owned and not open to the public!), and tiny red sandstone villages. Who knew that you can drive the overpass over the M6 and within mere moments you are in rural Warwickshire?

My previous knowledge of the Birmingham area was pretty limited to the dauntingly massive series of motorway junctions and ring roads that seem to surround and engulf the city, separating north from south. Or, as the road signs call it, 'The North' and 'The South'. Birmingham seems impenetrable and sprawling and constantly circled by a sea of motor vehicles. I'm still avoiding it this week, but I have discovered the peaceful contrast on its doorstep.

Our campsite this week is called something Hall Farm. I'm being a coward/diplomat and not naming it properly but you might see how one could have high hopes of a name like that. You might, like I did, imagine a grand estate with a charming little paddock set aside for campers. In fact this whole area is clearly a series of estates with halls and castles, woods and farmland. A search of the history of the area shows ownership of the estate dating back to the 15th century. And I will concede that this is not the time of year to see a basic campsite at its best. An adjacent strip of woods is going to burst with daffodils very soon, so that will brighten things up. But it is basic, which we don't mind at all, but I am judging the site by the fact that it is costing us £5 more per night than our last place, offering us no more, and by the awkwardness and unpleasantness of the black waste point.

It is an enclosed, above-ground tank. You have to climb two steps to access the wooden hatch on the top, once held on with two hinges, long since rusted and useless. And if you are 5ft 3in tall as I am, you have to lift your full black-waste cassette to chest height, rest it on the edge of the opening, carefully and with a very firm hold. Also treating the cap of your own tank as if it were part of an unexploded bomb, lest you drop it into the liquid hell below. Then to rinse, step down to ground level, reach several feet to the other end of the tank to grab the hose, rinse, climb back up, etc. Glamping my arse!

Apart from that, it is indeed peaceful and remote-yet-handy. And money for old rope for the farmer.

Mini moan and griping aside, it has been tingly and exciting to move to a completely unknown area again. Out of necessity we have been staying in one area for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and it has been lovely to make friendships and connections and to get comfortable with the familiarity of the roads and day to day facilities one relies upon. But there was a time when we moved every four or five days and got used to never really knowing our way around. After almost two years of exploring the country we were surprised to find ourselves in one spot for two whole weeks. And there are still places we haven't seen, which is great. For some reason we missed out Yorkshire completely.

We had a tricky time getting to this site. The junction we thought we wanted didn't have an exit on the bit of motorway we were travelling on. It took a couple of rethinks to find a way off! But finally here and set up, fairy lights on, cup of tea in hand I said, "Wherever we go, we're always here." You know, after all that, we are still at home.

Rockhill Rendezvous 2012

I love to wander around the field at Rockhill Rendezvous and just take in the spectacle of a field of gathered Airstreams and their proud owners mingling and relaxing in the sunshine (and eating cake!) whilst I take in the sounds of chatting and laughing. The magic that I can't quite put my finger on is that a crowd of people who are simply brought together by a common love of their Airtsreams, who might not otherwise meet, and who might even drive each other crazy if they spent any more time together, can gather in a field for four days, find some common ground and have a merry old ding dong.

During this year's Rendezvous, two weeks ago, the days were seasoned with some organised excuses to get together. For example, a full-timers' forum which was well attended by Streamers who are currently living in their trailers as well as quite a few who are considering at least an extended trip. A polishing demo attracted vintage owners as well as interested new Airstream owners, and we had a 'meeting' during which it was reaffirmed that UK Airstreamers are not at all interested in forming a club with a committee and a bunch of boring old rules (phew! because I'm with Groucho on the subject of clubs). There was the ever-popular Open House where we all visit and admire each other's trailers and motorhomes. Unhitch and Stitch on the Sunday has become an annual haven of crafty, wooly chit-chat, during which I suspect that many of the other Airstreamers, who haven't had to leave yet, are having a nap.

But the idea is that all of this is optional, and people just dip in and out of the bits that appeal, in between simply visiting each other, going for walks, popping into Ludlow for a bit of food fair distraction, or just sunning themselves in their fold-up chairs. And, of course, there's a fair bit of technical know-how being exchanged too.

As far as the evenings go, there is something going on in the marquee each night, starting with a gentle get together on Thursday, building gradually through the Friday night Meet and Greet, to the Bring and Barby, a band and some dancing on Saturday. By Sunday night, it's time for a more ad hoc approach, one final barbecue, and a mellow night around the fire, for as long as you can keep your eyes open. There's music too. We had our Airstreaming folk duo, Shine, on Thursday, full-timer DJ Yossie on Friday and local band, The Cellar Boys on Saturday. And for a few lucky women (I don't think any men entered the free raffle), there were beauty treatments by Kerry of My Little Beauty.

I suppose I also have to mention the Vintage and Imported versus New European rounders match, which the Vintage blah blah blah team somehow managed to win for the second year. There, I've mentioned it.

Friendships are formed, the seeds of a winter ski trip were sown, new Airstreamers were welcomed and promised to return. Four days is probably enough, but there is still a feeling that we could just keep going and a handful of Streamers could be persuaded to stay on. Instead, we'll all just have to scatter, Airstreaming in our different ways and get back together with a treasury of new stories to share for next year.

Rockhill Rendezvous Approaches

Three days to go until thirty-plus Airstreams start to roll in to Rockhill Rendezvous. The marquee is up. The toilet sheds have been re-painted and decked out with sparkly lights. Actually, the sparkly lights look and sound whimsical, but since we have no power except from our generator, we have to be creative with battery and solar power. And it all looks so pretty.

I have been following orders to be careful, so that means no extreme familial visits or walking on uneven or slippy surfaces, and I am ready to party and be dazzled and walk on my own two feet (last year I was in a plaster cast, in case anyone missed it!). There is more about our preparations on our other blog, so I don't want to repeat myself. But I really want  to try to take more photographs this year. Pete and I always seem to be too distracted to take them. So, more blogging, and more pics, hopefully!

Here's a repeat, but worth another look. It's our special place on the farm where we get to be neighbours with Carl, Gaynor and the boys. That's their '59 Tradewind just showing off and being all cool and vintage. They just allowed my oldest friend to come and stay in it for a visit from London, which was beyond generous, and typically lovely of them.

Airstreams Throng

The Airstreamers have been gathering in Dorset and Yorkshire. We had a miraculous break in the weather for a weekend at an Airstream-friendly campsite in Dorset, then two weeks later, a cosy paddock and a heatwave near to York.

I really look forward to the gatherings. I've often thought that they are a way for the 'streamers to get their travels off to a start, but of course, in reality, many have already been on the road for a while. But anyway, it's a great time for talking about recent travels and future plans. For others, it can be an excuse to get a bit of maintenance or restoration finished in time for an appreciative audience, or to share your latest modification, or to show off that freshly polished trailer!

In Dorset we had a few new faces, which is always lovely, plus a catch up with some familiar faces we hadn't seen for a while, as well as some really regular gatherers. As people come to more of these weekends, the more the banter and ribbing flourishes. It's just joyful. And because you often know about other Airstreamers via the internet, it's great to put faces to names. This time we met the lovely Jenni and Kevin from Happy Days RV, who rent out their trailers on the site where we gathered.

For the second event, we went up North to Airstreamers Dave and Tanya's paddock. It was just the right size and shape for a cozy get-together, and the sun beat down on us the whole time. I still have the flip-flop tan to prove it. This time, there were no new faces, but the familiarity coupled with our sort of kidney-shaped formation made the group feel very relaxed.

Next? Rockhill Rendezvous in September, of course! It was lovely to hear all the York gatherers bidding each other goodbye with a "See you at Rockhill", like it was a given. Well it is for us, obviously. Our trips to the pub are also known as "meetings", where we each have a notebook and assorted, developing 'to-do' lists. Top of my to do list is "don't break leg!" I've already stepped up my yoga practice to strengthen my legs and ankles. Prevention blah blah blah.

And So...

Right, that's that then. It's quite hard to pick up a blog when it's been left for a while, as many of the blog writers I read point out from time to time. Is there a bloggers' protocol out there, whereby we just type in a codeword and everyone understands the futility of trying to make up for the un-blogged weeks or months. That would be handy.

Plus, of course, there was that December festive stuff that seems to have been building up since about October, so let's not mention any of that. We survived. Nuff said.

So what's new, apart from the year? Well, we trundled around and up and down the country throughout December for friends' big-birthday and getting-hitched celebrations, as well as the family visits at the end of the month for you-know-what. Now we're happy to be tucked up once more in our Worcestershire hideaway.

And I just posted some Sock Critters from my Etsy shop to someone in Niagara Falls! I know that's probably exactly the whole point of being part of the Etsy handmade hyper venue, but it's still blooming marvelous to think that I can sit here in our Airstream in little old Blighty, knitting and sewing daft bits of loveliness, and someone in Canada (and Australia recently too) stumbles across my stuff and decides it's just what they need or want. Brilliant! Now the Little Tin Hut shop is looking a bit depleted so I have another Critter on the go and a tea cosy, of course.

Here's a cosy which I should have shown off proudly some weeks ago. It was made for Carl and Gaynor's 1959 Tradewind, with some of Gaynor's wool left over from her crocheted blanket. Her sister-in-law started her off this summer and I don't think she's stopped since. Dare I say she's hooked? No, I'd better not.

I've also been inspired to pick up the crochet hook again. I recently bought this pattern from Wonky Zebra's shop of vintage crochet and knitting patterns, and I have started working on the array of granny squares. The colours will be different of course, because I'll be wading through my stash as much as I can without making it fit-inducing.

From Wonky Zebra on Etsy

Lovely Laundry Day

I have stumbled upon a foolproof way to make laundry day less bothersome:  Find the nearest launderette that has sensible opening hours (8 till late works for me), bung washables, detergent and money in machine, go and buy ice cream. Then the remaining bundling and folding goes by in a haze of gratified self indulgence.

Apply above method to any tiresome activity. In winter, replace ice cream with chocolate and hot milky beverage.

Life Outside

Today I had my first al fresco yoga session of the year. The occurence of these is usually limited as much by privacy as weather, but both were in my favour today, after our over-the-hedge neighbours had been for a look at the Airstream. We seem to be having an early summer and it is perfect for starting to spill out of the trailer and do stuff outdoors that is limited to indoors for rest of the year. I think it is about seven months since we put away our outdoor furniture and stored the firepit and barbecue, so it's not a day too soon. When you can leave the door open and seamlessy swap between inside and outside, that is what it's all about, whether you are Airstreaming or campervanning, fulltime or holidaying. I'm outside right now!

To get myself to make time for yoga I took my own advice that I used to give when I taught yoga classes, and that is to aim small. If you think that you need an hour put aside then, unless you're dedicated, you'll just find that you have more pressing things to do, like answer some emails or clean the kitchen bin. So, if you tell yourself that you will simply do ten minutes, or one pose, you are more likely to step onto the mat. The thing is, once you get started you will probably end up adding a few more poses, and afterwards you'll feel more alive and maybe a little bit pleased with yourself.

I have recently bought a cheap foam bed roll to put under my yoga mat to counter lumps and bumps under foot and to help to keep my mat clean. The sun warmed my face, birdsong was ringing  all around me. A couple of brave Goldfinches even dared to use the feeder which was only about eight feet from me. I savoured sustained breaths of fresh spring country air, I reached up to the sky, I thought about having a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits. I was at one with nature, and then I wasn't. I didn't dwell on the beverage fantasy, but it was a persistent yearning which I have since indulged, and my life is complete and well balanced I feel.

Reality Bites

Here are a couple of pics from a little visit to Broadway in the Cotswolds, ridiculously pretty and a perfectly preserved version of 'Englishness' which only exists in affluent pockets and attracts tourists from all over the world. It is a lovely place to wander about, have some tea and cake, buy something traditional from a traditional shop, look at some yellow houses with their regulation sagey-putty-coloured front doors before returning to the real world.

A few days after I brought the Land Rover home from its cheap-as-chips MOT it started to lose its umph. It wouldn't accelerate at an acceptable rate. I had to return to the hinterlands of Cheltenham to get it fixed, and once more had to 'kill' time, a whole day in fact.

I had a few gratifyingly gratis and discounted experiences in Cheltenham, starting with a free coffee, courtesy of a loyalty card lurking in my purse. I made up for this by signing up for the coffee chain's not-free WiFi. It took as long to sign up as to actually be online.

Next, some reward points helped me to purchase a book (Room, by Emma Donoghue) for £2.44. Then an early summer sale in a department store got me 20% off some new bed linen. So far so good.

All was negated by the bill at Land Rover at the end of the day. This seemingly simple life of ours can be bloody expensive at times. We've chosen this big shiny trailer to live in, which needs a big monster car to tow it. It works by some kind of voodoo/electrics, which has been cleverly designed so that the voodoo/electrics wear out a lot and have to be fixed by the voodoo/electrics pixies, not by mere mortals. You look under the hood and you can't even see the engine. What goes on in there? It looks big and tough but it seems to be made of marshmallows and tissue paper, and it disappoints me quite frequently. Can you tell?

Hey Ho, here's some more Spring stuff. Oh and the book was superb. I devoured it in two days.

Postcards From The Edge of a Village

A little while ago I put together the Little Tin Hut website, which has a gallery of some of my favourite projects that I have made since we took to the road in our Airstream. The sock creatures get great reactions, and I have had some 'commissons', which I have been very pleased about. Recently I have put other projects on hold while I have been sewing and stuffing until I now have a box of critters. Next, I'm hoping for good light so that I can photograph what I've made so far and then put them in an online shop.

I have the trailer to myself a lot more at the moment while Pete is out helping a friend with a vintage Airstream restoration project. I have even become an early riser, although this week it's been more of a struggle. As well as an alarm to wake me, repeatedly, I need one to yell at me at night, "Get to bed!" We have always been nocturnal creatures and it is a really hard habit to break. I always want to squeeze a bit more out of the day. Plus some of the most absorbing films are shown late at night. You don't get any Pedro Almodovar in the nine o'clock prime time spot, or Roadhouse! (Mr Swayze does T'ai Chi and defends a crappy bar against thugs. What more do you need to know?).

Regular brisk walks also have to be fitted into the days. It is about half a mile to the nearest village and if there was a village shop I could perfectly combine picking up milk and bread with stretching my legs and taking the marvelous Worcestershire air. But there isn't. Instead I have taken to writing post cards to friends, you know, like we did in the old days, and then striding out towards the post box, envelope in hand. If you receive one of these and wonder why I didn't just text you or send you an email, just indulge me and know that you will be helping me to keep alive the ancient art of handwriting whilst looking after my cardiovascular health in one gesture. I thank you.

Photo Archive

I was going through some of my photographs, trying to arrange them into albums, as you do on a rainy, wintry Saturday, and I came across this one. It is from our summer of 2009 trip around the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. That journey is still with me, beauty you can actually inhale and take away with you. More here if you missed it the first time around.

Even though it might seem like a shame to turn those blue skies grey, I rather like the drama of the landscape and the silver of the Airstream and car in monochrome.

And here's one from my 'Stuff' album.

I will admit that it is not the prettiest photo I took on Orkney, but I do like random stuff in a field. I wouldn't swap it for the Airstream, but it has potential.

Shopping For The Crafty Nomad

As we move around I am getting used to finding my craft supplies in a variety of places, from gorgeous little independent shops and old fashioned and fusty little places, to haberdashery departments in well-known stores and monster-sized craft warehouses.

Ideally I love to go to the little, characterful shops first. Everyone knows that our high streets are at risk of becoming identically dull, lined with the same old chains. I can confirm this, having scoured many of the nation's high streets in two and a half years of the nomadic lifestyle. Many of them are functional at best, a boring waste of time and shoe leather at worst. So we need to frequent and support the independent and the individual when we find it.

On the other hand, I can get excited by the seemingly endless choice in a large store. I'm the same with bookshops. Sometimes I know exactly what I want and I know a small bookstore will do everything in their power to get it for me. On other occasions I have stumbled across something delightful and unexpected whilst moseying around a large temple to all things bookish.

But variety is key. We used to live in a town in the Lake District. There were about twenty shops selling walking gear and waterproofs but there was no haberdashers, and we had to drive forty miles to buy new underwear. And when we got there, we were in Carlisle, or The Pit Of Despair, as I tend to call it. One of our first stops on our Airstreaming odyssey was Bath. What a contrast. I thought I'd transcended this mortal plane and been reborn in a more heavenly realm.