No, not mental as in mad. Mental as in imaginary. I have no means of transport – so it’s all in my mind. If I could mentally transport myself ANYWHERE in the world right now it would be to a certain campsite in Brittany, France. But this nomad doesn’t travel far of late. Not since she spun out of control on a wet road somewhere near Brize Norton in Oxfordshire last Sunday. Out of control and into a four foot deep ditch which someone had carelessly left alongside the road. I am told it is pretty hard to write off a Landrover (right off?), but discovery by name, discovery by nature – we found out it was possible.
Amazingly me and the kids clambered out with barely a scratch (although I had mysterious bruises on my knees that I put down to dubious alien intervention). My son said it was “like Jackass” and my daughter immediately texted her friends, glad to have some dramatic news. My youngest was more concerned about spilt chocolates. I have to say the site of the underbelly of my beloved vehicle illuminated by the flashing police lights in the pouring rain was a sobering moment. They closed the road as the recovery truck winched her out, and she slithered out of the undergrowth like a newborn. I slapped her arse and knew I wouldn’t be driving her again, poor love.
So this week I have toyed with the idea of having no car. I went through a similar feeling when I said goodbye to the au pair last year. How could I possibly cope alone with three kids? It would save money of course, but logistically? Was I mad? It seems like such a big change, but as Alan Cohen writes:
It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power.
Wise words indeed (perhaps better on my nomadic-wisdom site although that has been taken over by Iraqi football). “In movement there is life, and in change there is power” – 4 Nomadic with her perpetual moving on and perpetual arriving at something new the words give strength. But I realise that although dubbed nomadic because of the number of times I have moved house and for the many places I have been to around the world, it is really all about a state of mind. I can continue to embrace change and life can be an exciting adventure, without actually going anywhere at all. The movement is all internal and the trick is not to stagnate.
That said, I have spotted a wonderful 1973 soft top Series III Landrover that would suit me down to the ground. I could be in Brittany before tea time.