It might seem like a difficult life choice to make at our age but selling our home and moving into a caravan has not been as filled with fraught as you may think. It has had its difficulties of course but nothing to make us regret the decision. It is hard to explain why my husband and I haven’t killed each other. Many of our friends say that in the same situation blood would have been shed!
The secret to our harmonious living, or our living at all, is of course understanding boundaries. This understanding leads to routines which enable us to wake up in the morning and not go for the jugular!
Here are ten things, routines, or what you might call steps, which have led, so far at least, to us not regretting embarking on this gypsy life. These ten steps are repeated on a daily basis and have become non-negotiable.
Firstly it has been established that my husband makes the coffee. It doesn’t mean that I do not know how to put the kettle on, but for his 65th birthday Peter was given a coffee machine. Coming to grips with the swish, splutter and whizz of this machine has given him the coffee advantage. So I let him make the morning coffee. However he now has only a plunger to work with, the coffee machine being deemed to take up too much space. To make the day work I have to lie there and wait for the coffee to appear.
We both understand, without discussing it really, that we cannot use the bathroom at the same time. In this contained area also, without too much discussion, we understand the shutting of the bathroom door is a must.
It is generally understood too that he is better at making the bed than myself. If left to me the sheets would not be tucked in, as through the night my feet often feel the need to break out of the claustrophobic hold of the coverings. Peter on the other hand is often cold and welcomes the embrace and tight bindings of the blankets. So be it. He has become responsible for the tucking and smoothing. I know to keep away and offer no advice on sheets, blankets and pillows.
What is my area then you might ask? Well probably that area would be the front end of the caravan, the inside bit where the knick knacks are on show. Of course there are not many but their arrangement and consequent cleaning are my responsibility. Wiping benches and stovetop is my area too. In my opinion Peter is very good at tucking but not so good at squeezing a cloth. So be it, thinks Peter and he doesn’t fight me for the privilege of cleaning the sink and table top.
I also take on the job of bathroom janitor and he empties the outside water containers. These jobs are interchangable of course but over the two years we have been in this abode the above seems to be the rule.
Cooking has been a contestable area for us. Both of us like to cook but we do know it is one at a time in the caravan. There is not much room to move and generally we are individual cooks. We have our own ways of doing things and our own preferences for what goes together, food wise. This individuality means that not all offers of help are appreciated, so we have found it best that if one of us is cooking the other is occupied elsewhere. Thankfully the caravan has a strong wifi connection and both of us have headphones and devices. It is not necessary to leave the caravan when the other is cooking as technology enables the mind to take itself into another zone.
Dirty dishes are the responsibility of the non-chef for the night. Another unwritten rule is only one body napping on the bed at once. It can be a long and exhausting day being a retiree so napping is sometimes needed. There is plenty of space for the other one to lounge down the front.
It is also advisable when taking a phone call to step out. Sometimes the caller wants to talk to one or the other in private. Sometimes the inhabitants of the caravan want a private moment. Again this rule is adaptable depending on the identity of the caller.
The above rules, routines or whatever you might call them, has meant that no bloodletting has occurred.
One last routine which has taken trial and error to establish, but it has been decided. Either of us can pour the wine but only I make the gins!
Well…. I’m not sure if 10 tips would be enough to stop the bloodshed if it was us…
There is a bit of fiction here!