Forget white van man: Meet white van woman!
The pandemic had left Amy Nicholson feeling lost and low, but she found a unique way to gain positivity – and a sense of adventure…
Looking around my pristine flat, I thought back to how excited I’d been when I’d moved in just a few months earlier. I’d always lived with friends or partners previously, now I was standing on my own two feet.
The crisp white walls, brass lamps and endless houseplants in the Tunbridge Wells flat were a dream come true.
But logging on to my work as a freelance marketing executive, I felt the fear.
We’d all had to adjust to working from home, but the jobs weren’t flooding in like they’d used to, especially as most of my clients were in events…
I was fortunate that I could still just about cover the £1,500 rent each month. I’d assumed lockdown would only be for a few weeks and was incredibly grateful for my lovely flat. Surely things would quickly get back to normal…?
As time ticked on, I tried to stay positive as more work cancellations came in, but I couldn’t deny what it was doing to my bank balance.
Each time I checked my account online, despite only spending on rent, food and TV subscriptions, I’d still have to look with one eye closed.
My trendy sofas and perfectly placed cushions soon became intimidating.
It felt like my world was starting to crumble.
The dinner parties I’d envisaged and movie nights with friends in my perfect pad couldn’t happen. Loneliness – and panic at my lack of work – really started to set in. Friends and family were incredibly supportive, but I knew it was affecting my mental health.
Needing to take action, I worked out how much I’d actually have to live on if I didn’t have any clients and was shocked to see it was £90.
I’d only been freelance for a year so hardly got any government support. So, with a heavy heart, I made the decision to move back in with my parents in August 2020.
It’ll probably just be a few weeks, I told myself.
I’d only just got a taste of freedom and it’d been ripped away from me, which was really hard to come to terms with.
Desperate to find a way of earning money and a little independence, I offered to walk my neighbour’s dog or hose down their patio.
My parents, Sally, 58, and Martin, 61, could see I wasn’t myself. Sitting in the garden one balmy evening, Mum walked on to the patio with a bottle of wine.
‘ We’ve had an idea,’ she said, glancing at Dad. ‘You’ve not had a partner for a while now, so we think your wedding fund could go to better use.’
I was shocked. But there was more…
‘We’re going to buy you a van,’ she said excitedly. ‘When things go back to normal you can travel wherever you like, live and work in it and go on all the adventures you’ve dreamed of.’
I was touched by their generosity – and their intuition. I’d always loved to travel – had lived in Bali for three years, toured New Zealand in a camper van. It was always so good for my mental health.
‘Thank you so, so much.’
I was completely overwhelmed.
Within a week I had my new Vauxhall Vivaro van – after spending hours researching online. It gave me focus and an optimism I hadn’t had for months.
It immediately felt like home! Beeping the horn, I took it for a spin around the block, waving at my parents.
I made it cosy and ready for my first trip through the UK and Europe, filling it with cushions and getting the power supply going so I could even work from the van. It already had a hob and a sofa bed.
As soon as the restrictions were lifted, I was raring to go.
‘You’re all set, and you know your route?’ Mum said to me as I popped the last few bits and bobs in the back of the van.
‘I think so,’ I said. ‘Once I’ve got through France, I’ll race through Spain and spend a few weeks in Portugal,’ I said, kissing them goodbye. Soon, I was zooming down the motorway, before parking up on the ferry from Kent to make my way across the Channel.
But driving off the boat, it started to pour down. The visibility was tough, and I felt that familiar anxiety.
Had I made a mistake? Yet, by the time I crossed the border into Spain, things were looking up…
The sun was out. And I had a focus – getting to Portugal!
Winding my way through the mountains, listening to my favourite songs and seeing sights I’d never see in Tunbridge Wells – it all lifted my spirits.
I found a beautiful wild camping spot by the sea. It was remote enough to enjoy the stunning scenery but close enough to other people to feel safe.
I had to pinch myself – I couldn’t believe I was here.
I opened the doors of the van and sat on my bed, just gazing at the sunset.
This is it, this is what I wanted, I thought to myself.
After months of feeling low and lost, bewildered at what I was going to do with my life and where I was going to find an income, I finally felt like I had found myself again.
I had a huge sense of freedom; the world really was my oyster.
That evening, after a trip to a local fishmonger, I pulled the van wide open and lit my outdoor cooker before dousing fat pink prawns in garlic and throwing them on the cooker to sizzle away.
The sun began to set, crickets sounded and a stray dog came up to me.
‘Hello, you,’ I said, giving him a stroke.
It was the perfect moment. After that my trip just got better and better…
I felt so fulfilled just living the completely simple life. Waking up and having a coffee and making blueberry porridge on my outdoor cooker, watching the sunrise.
Then taking a walk before setting up a table outside the van and working away at my computer as I slowly rebuilt my client base remotely.
It meant I could drive somewhere new every day and spend afternoons surfing and hiking safe in the knowledge I was still working. After a month, I drove home and sold the van, using the money and what I’d earned from freelancing to buy a Mercedes Sprinter, which I’m decking out now.
Now, at 33, I can’t wait to get back on the road, to satisfy my work-life balance… and my soul.