Archive for February, 2008

Eyes are everywhere…..

February 9, 2008

It is hard to believe that we have been living in the bus for over five months already. Yup, five. The reality still hasn’t sunken in somehow. It’s there every day, of course, but it still simply feels like a long, long holiday. Not that there haven’t been adjustments to make, and plenty of them, too. Having to line up for a shower if you choose a busy time, like first or last thing, having to remember that the toilet cassette needs emptying NOW, without delay, having to share your every outside moment, and a number of inside ones as well, with complete and total strangers, not knowing who will end up being your neighbour for the night; it all takes some getting accustomed to. One of the things that I didn’t really allow myself to think about before we embarked on this was the complete and utter lack of privacy you have when you live in a campground. The instant you step outside your bus, you are in the public eye. People watch you, all the time. Natural curiosity, I suppose, but it becomes a little wearing. You are watched when you go to the laundry, watched when you go to shower, when you walk the dog, collect the mail, connect the hose for water, put the rubbish or the washing out, bring the washing in, go for the mail, all day, every day, ad nauseum. Even when inside, unless you live in constant curtained seclusion you are under the gaze of interested parties who are curious about your abode or, to be honest, often straight-out nosy and for a person who is in many ways intensely private, this has been no easy road to travel. Probably just as well that I didn’t think too hard about this particular aspect of our new life, or I may well have put the brakes on the whole crazy scheme. The other permanents seem to feel this too, and you can generally guess fairly accurately who is a permanent and who is just enjoying a holiday by the way you are greeted, or not greeted. The holiday-makers grin inanely and babble on about the great/nasty/unseasonable weather, or the wonderful/ratty/dilapidated ablutions, while the permanents have a strong tendency to walk like blinkered horses, eyes fixed in front and a little downwards. It becomes the only way to have a little privacy, I suppose. We are kind of in the middle of the transition at present; still sociable enough to say hello and smile, but not willing to chat with every Tom, Dick, Harry or Jane who wants to stop and natter.


I’ll have to work on this…