Skipping the jump rope.
By Suzanne Crabtree
My dad died.
When I got the call, it was cataclysmic. Everything changed in an instant, and when the smoke finally cleared I was forced to look at my life; I took a long, hard look and realised I didn’t like what I saw.
I was, and still am, a single parent. I was in a senior HR role I no longer enjoyed, being drained of joy, for a company I didn’t like and living in an incredible house that I absolutely couldn’t afford to pay for. I had been living this life for years.
Once, on my long commute to work, in amongst the throngs of people at Leeds train station, I saw a girl with a black cloth bag that read ‘I am not a tourist; I am a global citizen’ and I thought: ‘That’s what I want to be. In fact, that’s who I am’.
I am nomadic at heart; always have been. I was brought up in Zambia and had lived in England, Zambia, Iraq, Cyprus and the Philippines by the age of 18.
I hadn’t realised, until just then, how stifling it had been, living in one house, in one country, following a set path, for so long.
I didn’t want to keep ‘skipping the jump rope’ for the rest of my life, in one place, so I took a leap of faith.
I left my job, sold my house and bought a motorhome – she’s called ‘Craig Daisy’!
I live with my dog (Oswald ‘the regal beagle’!) in Craig Daisy, full-time, like in any other house, with my boys as they come and go. What a time we have had! We have spent weeks on the crisp, golden beaches of Dunkirk and Piémenson which stretch for miles; stood with flamingos in their natural habitat near Salin de Giraud; gorged ourselves on freshly baked baguettes from real local bakeries in the south of France; pilgrimaged through Barcelona and La Sagrada Familia in the bright sunlight, and dipped our toes in the quiet, cool waters off Tavira. We have seen the Mona Lisa up close and personal, marvelled at the Mezquita de Córdoba and slept under the lighthouse in Almerimar marina. We have drunk wine and eaten cheese in a remote vineyard in France and enjoyed a 6-course gourmet meal in a beautiful restaurant in Delft, and all whilst I was working as an online teacher from the comfort of my mobile ‘office’.
It sounds idyllic, right?
It does, but I would be doing you a disservice if I left it at that because there is another side to the story.
Living in a motorhome during lockdown on Bridlington beach, with the police knocking on the door in the middle of the night, is not ideal. The prejudice of some people, who think motorhome-dwellers are ‘lesser beings’, is not great either. The bumps and scrapes that regularly appear on the motorhome because I think I am invincible and try to squeeze down tiny streets that are not made for such huge beasts! Followed by the embarrassment when the men at the dealership look disapprovingly at the mess a woman driver has made of the motorhome in such a short space of time. (I can feel the judgment!)
Not to mention residing with my 2 sons (22 and 24) for a period of time in a small metal box, trying to navigate the strong personalities and temper tantrums (not least from me!) has been tough! The guilt and self-doubt of having sold the only home they can remember. The worries about money, trying to support them to live their dreams at the same time as navigating my own. However, probably the most unexpected and unsettling aspect is the feeling of having no ‘anchor’ or no roots which has caused me considerable consternation. I didn’t know that nomads could feel like this.
Am I going to pack it in and buy a small flat somewhere any time soon? Probably not.
Am I going to pick myself up, dust myself off and carry on after lockdown? Undoubtedly.
I am a free spirit, and I am living the life I choose, no matter how difficult that may be. I am going to improve my teaching, write a book, perhaps start a blog (or perhaps not!) and find somewhere quiet and peaceful to reflect (preferably overlooking the sea) before moving on to another adventure and another day.
Before I go; if there is anything that I have learnt worth sharing, it’s this: if you are ‘skipping the jump rope’ and your legs are getting tired – whoever you are and whoever you want to be – take that leap of faith. It won’t be easy, but it must be better than the alternative, don’t you think?
Suzanne Crabtree
Full time Nomad and Teacher of English as a Second Language - suzannecrabtree@aol.com