Well here am I sitting in a camper van on top of the world famous Porlock Hill in the beautiful county of Somerset, UK. My purpose for being here is threefold.
The first reason is that after spending many years sitting in my little home office, staring at the same walls, working as an online author, I have found it increasingly difficult to get out and, in particular, found visiting even the most insignificant of high places produced a feeling of panic.
Realizing that this was a form of phobia, over the past year, I have been increasing the time I had been spending out and, in particular, the time spent in the countryside.
Slowly I have been exposing myself to wider and wider open spaces and gradually this has brought me back to some degree of normality.
My acquisition of a camper van is aimed to make this process easier because it will enable me to get out from my office for longer lengths of time and provide me with an alternative place in which I can do my writing.
The second reason is that it is just really great to get out in the countryside and have the wonderful green fields, yellow gorse, ferns, trees and Exmoor ponies around me as I work.
In my childhood, I spent a lot of time walking on Dartmoor in South Devon and developed a real affection for these remote and sometimes desolate but always beautiful places.
The third reason for sitting up here on top of Porlock Hill in my camper van, feeling rather anxious, is that, if I am phobic of standing near the top of a small / feels really large hill, what chance do I have of flying?
As I approach pensionable age, the demands on my finances by family are less and it would be great to travel more which is something that I have done little of over the years. Hopefully, if I can cope with terrestrial agoraphobia, the easier it will be to cope with the fear of flying.
Getting to the top of this old hill was scary enough. My new camper van is not really new at all but instead very long in the tooth. Porlock Hill is definitely its biggest challenge under my ownership so far.
I have to confess that when I had to change down into first gear in order to get around the tight corner at the steepest part of the hill, I was definitely holding my breath.
It was also slightly embarrassing to have to continue up most of the rest of the hill in either first or second gear. I am sure that the clutch was slipping at the steepest part.
Without a doubt, there can only be one thing more embarrassing than going up a steep hill in first or second gear with lots of cars and lorries behind me and that is going in reverse back down the hill into the oncoming traffic because the engine no longer connects to the wheels.
Admittedly, my little camper van had an immediate and necessary major service as soon as I got my hands on it and the garage reassured me that new brakes had been fitted all around.
Not that brakes are a very useful thing on Porlock Hill, especially in going down it. The acrid smell of fried brake systems that usually hangs around the bottom of the hill stands as testimony to this.
Porlock Hill is best descended in lower gear with the engine acting as the main break.
I’ve even heard of new cars going down Porlock Hill that have ended up needing new brake systems, according to a local garage.
However, here I am parked up and ready to get on with my writing.
My eyes look up from the laptop briefly.
Porlock town is far below and the Bristol Channel is a light shade of murky blue in the hazy distance. I notice the wind is beginning to howl and a rain storm looks imminent at my idyllic location and the camper van is beginning to rock from side to side in a rather frightening away.
The dream of working on the side of a sunny hill today is looking somewhat unlikely.
To reduce my feelings of rising tension, I take a brief walk outside to stretch my legs and when I returned to the van, I cover the carpet with muddy foot prints.
Hey! If I’m going to do this a lot, I’m going to need some bedroom slippers in my camper van. The thought pleases me and it raises a smile.
At heart, I have always been a liberal anarchist. Let’s populate the countryside with anarchistical authors wearing bedroom slippers. There’s probably a law against it and we will all have to demonstrate vigorously at 10 Downing Street, in our camper vans, wearing our bedroom slippers.
Oh my God it’s hailing! And the wind is beginning to howl louder and louder! I wonder if I should call air sea rescue?
Imagine the headlines: ‘Agoraphobic author abandons camper van to be rescued from popular rural beauty spot – air sea rescue queries why he couldn’t have caught a passing bus home and saved a lot of money!’
Pushing aside the thought that, if the wind gets any higher, my camper van is likely to be flying all by itself, I decide to have a break and fortify myself with my sandwich lunch.
Lunch fortifies me and I complete two further articles so am pleased at the end of the day – but relieved to be back at the bottom of Porlock Hill.
Bye for now
Rob
