Thursday, 7 February 2013

Itchy Feet

Ever since I read Rima Staines'  wonderful post over at her beautiful blog The Hermitage, I've been feeling the urge to go a wandering. Not that I have ever trailed along the highways and byways in the same wonderful style as Rima has (oh what a dream that would be) and I am not sure it is in my nature to ever be able to fully say goodbye to the security of having four solid walls around me but...... excuse me a while as I gaze wistfully into the distance......
While I don't think it would ever be possible for us to live a travelling life for any length of time (my Mad Druid does love his creature comforts ;) ) we have always been at our best when we have lived a life of spontaneity, heading out on a whim whenever, wherever the urge takes us, drifting with the wind whenever we could. Holidays were never planned, and often started out as nothing more than an afternoon or an evening out, but we'd follow the car wherever she led us and discovered so much more because of it. We once went out to buy fish & chips for tea and ended up in Brighton, and picked up our new car from the showroom on London's Commercial Road and came home via Wales! Those were the days.
The decision to leave London and move to Cornwall was taken quite suddenly. Even the somewhat shaky plans we had in place were cast aside over a glass of wine in a Liskeard pub one night when my Mad Druid said 'Sod it, lets just do it!' And in the space of a week our notices were given at work, belongings were either sold or put into storage and we loaded up the car bound for who knows where. Of course, things turned out to by not quite that simple and life had a few obstacles to throw in our way first, but those few months we spent just driving around the South West looking for work and a roof to put over our heads were the happiest I have ever known.

Occasionally we'd treat ourselves to a night of luxury in a B&B (hot running water, mmmm, bliss. lol).

but more often than not we simply parked our car up beside the road in a sheltered lay-by, or on the moors, or beside the sea. We drove where we wanted, stopped where we wanted, and woke with the dawn. Comfortable it wasn't. Liberating? Exhilarating? It certainly was. I had never felt so free.

Eventually, of course, the money ran out, health problems began to interfere and the lure of simple luxuries like a front door and a bed grew stronger. I packed away my camping stove in favour of a 'proper' kitchen and fitted myself into that box that is a conventional life. I am not unhappy. I look out of my window across rolling hills, I can walk in the woods or by the sea whenever I want, we make regular trips up to the moors. I have made a home from this stark cube of a council flat, I have a little garden and a warm kitchen and when I lock the door at night I am content.
I feel the need to go a wandering, to head where the road takes us with no plans, no reason. To wake as dawn creeps across the land, to sleep with the sound of rain drumming on the roof, to gaze at the stars, to take off my watch, to be free; if only for a little while.