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Now on to this week’s musings…
Disaster
A few weeks ago, after cutting, sanding, and painting the wood for my kitchen I headed out into the van to assemble it. Having built one section, I stopped to consider the sliding door. It was only partially completed, and I realised I would need to do the finishing work before building the cupboard in front of it.
That was when I noticed some worrying discolouration. Looking closer I discovered some of the insulation was damp. As I began to investigate, I uncovered the scale of the disaster. Somehow, despite my careful efforts, the window wasn’t watertight, and all my wood and sheep’s wool had begun to rot. As I removed it section by section, I realised I would have to take out the entire window and refit it.
Gutted, a little tearful, and feeling paranoid about every inch of the van I removed everything I had built on the door. Careful investigation around the roof fan suggests that it is watertight, and everything is ok on the ceiling. I haven’t yet braved the back doors which I’m fairly convinced will be damp around the top and will need pulling apart. I’ve chosen to believe that the walls are fine, as there is no reason they shouldn’t be. (Though I still feel worried.)
Doubt
I got the window back in, and resealed, using a different sealant and far more of it, both inside and outside the van. However, entirely unsurprisingly, the entire process filled me with doubt and self-recrimination.
“I should never have tried this.”
“I’ve wasted all this money.”
“The van is breaking before I’ve even finished it.”
“Why did I think I could ever do this?”
“Why didn’t I stop the moment the floor was too hard to pull up?”
“Why didn’t I get professionals to build the van for me, it would be done by now!”
I was heartbroken and furious with myself.
I spent the next few days looking at how much I could get if I sold the van, trying to figure out if I could afford to start again, or buy something already converted, or get something smaller. Anything to avoid forgiving myself and continuing to climb the mountain of the van build, which at that moment felt insurmountable.
Then, one evening after fruitless searching, right at the moment I would usually be heading to bed, I took the keys and went out into the van. Switching the lights on I stood and considered my tiny home.
It was as though someone had removed a blindfold, and I was seeing the space with new eyes. I could suddenly see, with startling clarity, how close I am to the finish line. If I had the money, I could easily get it done within a few months, even with everything else happening in my life. And while I don’t have the money for that, the realisation of how far I’ve come, was enough to bring forgiveness and hope.
New Designs
With my newfound vision and confidence, I was still left questioning what to do with the sliding door. The wood panelling had been a nightmare to install the first time around and I wasn’t willing to do it again. Nor did I want to use van carpet, which I genuinely detest from an design standpoint however practical it might be. While searching vans for sale I had seen one that used up-cycled hessian sacks instead of carpet, and while I wouldn’t want the graphics from the bags in my van the hessian itself seemed a brilliant option. A quick Google search revealed incredibly affordable upholstery hessian that I swiftly ordered. It arrived the other day and I am excited to get it fitted in the van.
As I considered the door, I found myself considering other elements of my original designs for the van and arrived at a conclusion that is both annoying and freeing. I don’t want a shower stall. It takes up a huge amount of permanent space for something that could be incorporated into the van in other ways. Ways that would leave far more space for seating, storage, and Finn.
I have begun redesigning ways of fitting in the toilet and shower and will be taking out the stud frame (the very first thing I built) the moment we have a dry day here in Cornwall. I’m really happy with my new ideas, which are going to create a much more inviting space. I’m looking forward to getting them down on paper and then into the van.
The entire emotional journey, from the moment I spotted the damp insulation to typing this, has been a huge and tiring test. I am proud of myself for for working through my doubts, for having the sense to turn on the van lights late at night and standing in my home, bodily being present with the problem rather than letting it circle around and around in my mind. And I am so looking forward to getting building once more.
Wish me luck.