Saturday, 28 April 2012

Life on hold but hopeful

I have been sitting in my van, listening to the rain. There has been a lot of rain and I am told there will continue to be so. It was, after all, inevitable after the pronouncements of drought by the weathermen. But the rain falls on the metal roof of the van and I sit wistfully, regarding my reclaimed cedar cladding and watching the rain run in rivulets down the windows.
 The tendency to introspection engendered by the atmospheric and moody (Literally!) charm of rain is much portrayed in popular culture of all types, but sitting in here, the picture of Me Old Dad looking down at me with amusement, the longing for adventure is poignantly underlined by the tip-tapping of huge rain drops outside, like a thousand unsynchronised tap-dancing weasels on my roof. I look longingly at the steering wheel, reminded that the DVLA (the government dept responsible for all matters automotive) still have not given me the go-ahead to drive.
I have no idea if driving would be a challenge for me yet. I suspect not. Mostly it is brain stem stuff and automatic, but perhaps my still-addled attention machinery might pose some level of risk. Hard to say until I try and until I get the letter from their medical panel, I suppose I can't try.

So, I sit in my van and I potter. I make a new cupboard with the remainder of the ancient planks and admire the beauty of the woodgrain. And the rain falls. And I Imagine it is sea-rain, driven off the Atlantic after a long day's paddling about in my kayak.
My Sit-on-Top Kayak. My favourite toy, by the sea at Putsborough
 When I got my van, it was a ex-railway crew-van, with all manner of industrial gadgetry inside. It all had to come out. And gradually, I have built it into a comfortable mobile beach cabin and lodgings without spending any significant cash on doing so (except for the £450 I got from the sale of the van's Predecessor which the kids affectionately named "Venus" after an astronomical event a few years ago - it is a Transit, you see).

But given my recent gift of New Perspective, I am eager to rejoin life. There are things I am impatient to do, like get traveling and "doing stuff!". There are beautiful woodlands to explore.

Lower Woods, Inglestone Common, Gloucestershire.
 There are distant, historical towns to visit, where we can walk at twilight and perhaps eat dinner in some rustic restaurant where they only seem to serve dishes containing duck or goose.
There are moody sunsets to be watched as they fade to dark, when we can retreat inside the van, draw the curtains, make some cocoa and read the papers before going to sleep, with the rain pit-pattering reassuringly on the roof, as we drift off cocooned snugly in warmth and comfort.

And in the morning, after a hearty breakfast, the rain will have stopped


there will be a walk along the beach and the space will get into my head and all will be mellow and happy.
But first I have to get back to full health and to be allowed to drive.
It won't be long. And then, there is Stuff to Do and I am going to jolly well do it! You just watch me!

8 comments:

Jane and Lance Hattatt said...

Hello Pete:
The interior of your 'van', for it is surely much more than that, is absolutely splendid. We trust that before long you will be given permission to drive, the rain will have stopped and you will be headed off for adventures anew.

Meanwile, kellemes hétvégét!

PerlNumquist said...

Jane and Lance, köszönöm! I shall indeed have a pleasant weekend :-) Hungarian is a language that has thus far completely defeated me, though we have a large number of Hungarians floating around the office in Bristol.
Thank you, my van is coming along, certainly. I ave a few more tweaks yet, like new mattresses and a last coat of duck-egg-blue for the remaining white surfaces.

Kay G. said...

I believe you.

LUCEWOMAN said...

Life ain't on hold, You are perhaps more 'alive' than you have been for years. Even though the last few posts have (underneath the optimism) a kind of lonely/longing feeling to them, I can tell you are taking even more notice of the here and now, of nature and of what you really want than usual.
If this is life in hold, then you are surely in for a very active and stimulating time once the DVLA give you the green light. Don't forget to blog about it.

Librarian said...

That woodlands picture with the bluebells is spectacular - I think I have mentioned it before, maybe on Kay's blog, that so far, I have always been too late in the year with my regular visits to England to see them.
Do you think I have a chance this year? We'll be travelling tomorrow!

PerlNumquist said...

Yeah, it's been cold so nature has been progressing very slowly. You may still find some in full bloom. But its very wet....
And yes, Lucy, there is longing: I want to be back in circulation and until I can resume the "normal" activities of life, I feel somehow in limbo.
And I want it to stop bloody raining!

Jenny Woolf said...

Oh what a wonderful van. Mobile beach hut - fantastic. You are giving me ideas...

Hope you get your license back soon but there is something to be said for having the chance to catch up with yourself.

PerlNumquist said...

There are some good deals about on vans at the moment... I know, I know "Vade retro Satanus!" :-) But really you can get an excellent low-mileage ex-fleet van for a lot cheaper then a car of the same age. And then you have the scope to indulge your creativity by kitting it out how you want. I could have made a standard, generic camper. But Where's the fun in that. Anyway, sometimes "dirty deeds need doing!" so I can take the beds out, line it with tarps and get sand from the builders.
I await the postman with bated breath every day. Alas, so far, he has not brought me the letter I want. I have finished the van now and this is the reason for my restlessness. I can tinker no longer and want to use it for the purpose I have designed it for.
Get a van, Jenny! freedom awaits!