Challenge, survival whatever you'd like to call it. In fact, I've narrowed my housing options for the beginning of the new year down to a single one left - and this one blew. Only yesterday I was joking about it saying I'm curious what happens if that one doesn't actually work out. I now know it does not.
So what will I do? I'm gonna live in my van. In the Netherlands. In winter. I'm gonna get a very nice warm jumper from the money I save on rent as well as one of these terrycloth bed sheets that feel warm when you touch them, whatever temperature. Pillows all over the place, loads of nice tea, good food and music. Candles and some funny light installations.
I am going to continue building this old traditional Dutch barn and become a good chippy in doing so. When the swell is pumping I fly out to Ireland and visit my friends, learn to surf actual bombs. Drive to England for a few days perhaps, too.
Days are at their shortest now. Even though this means they'll get longer, they'll still be very short. A lot of darkness before and after work. Cold solitude in the van. The swimming pool is going to serve as a warm refuge for showers, training, relaxation and light. And company. Last but not least I can always be writing if times are hard.
It doesn't take a genius to understand that living in the van here and now was not my most preferred option. After sleeping a few nights over it, I'd actually already excluded it completely. However, it does also represent very clearly and to the point the scenario I was wishing for. With no distractions or compromises of pleasure.
I'm a little scared. As I open the door to the balcony to turn off the lights on the Christmas tree, I feel a freezing wind that sends me straight back in. I've been outside a lot today and it is literally freezing. The mulled wine at the Christmas market warmed me up and now, here on my parents' couch, it is so cosy and comfy with that beer next to me.
The idea of moving into my van in less than two weeks time still bears with me. I start telling friends about it. At the same time, I do not actually try to escape it. Somehow secretly, I'm looking forward to this adventure. I'm quite sure it's a stupid thing to do. One of these things you only do once. But do them anyway. Prepare - physically and mentally.
Also, I find myself enjoying every bit of comfort around me that many times in the daily routine gets lost. A warmed house, chilling in my joggers on a cosy couch, taking a hot shower straight after getting out of bed, a warmed bathroom with fresh towels. I'm in control of warm and cold, company and comfort. When I get into my van then it's only to ride a few kilometres, hoping it heats up along the way. And if it doesn't it's still fine. There's a warm house waiting. Soon there won't.