- Towanda the amazing Berlingo Multispace -

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"Wandering reestablishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe." Anatole France

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My decision to persue van life was not one made lightly and despite initially being drawn in by the grand rigs and high spec builds of Sprinters and Transits, my lingering anxiety behind the wheel, quickly brought me back down to reality.

My Dutch ancestry has me standing a slouching 6ft tall and with two temperamental Border Collies to house, whatever rig I went for, I knew space would be at a premium. My budget was small, and I saw little sense in spending thousands and thousands of pounds doing up a camper that would only depreciate. More so, when my plan in living this way, was ultimately to save money, not spend it…

I came to realise that I needed something I could manoeuvre, something that would go unnoticed in a city landscape and ultimately something I could park. Trying to park in any large city is always a nightmare and in bringing Towanda home, I came to understand why visitors had loathed the process. With it being a case of ‘every car for themselves’, finding somewhere to house her near the flat became a constant battle and despite wanting to get out, keep my confidence up and explore, would often fear leaving in case my spot was lost.

When we brought our flat in the city seven years prior, we felt lucky to have finally grabbed ourselves a home. Property was booming in the area and each viewing we booked, was snapped up before we could even see it! The flat sat at the highest point in Norwich and within three minutes the dogs and I were hidden in the depths of Mousehold Heath, following Elen of Ways through the secret paths over the years to avoid the weekend walkers. As an ex-council flat, we had a generous garden and as the property beside ours had long since been abandoned by another private owner, felt isolated and hardly overlooked. The road was quiet, despite the school across the way, though the noise of our various neighbours over the years would come to colour that tranquillity.

There were plenty of young families around us when we moved in, with trampolines in every other garden replaced with paddling pools and screaming water fights in the summer. They remained in the area as their children grew and overtime gangs of teenagers formed on street corners and in play parks, wafting clouds of sickly sweet and the dank smell of green.I kept my head down when dubious medication was passed from one stranger to another, in the early hours of the morning and the police were regular visitors to our own block, as well as others.

After lockdown, the local dog population skyrocketed and the temperament of both dogs and owners soured. I lost count the times the dogs who lived under that roof, had been attacked and bullied by an unruly canine. Mystik, already a nervous pup, suffered the most from this and never did regain her trust in strangers. In protecting Magik from a neighbour’s terrier, I found myself in hospital and very nearly losing use of my hand. Breaking up an attack, when the terrier’s owner made no attempt to prevent it scaling a dilapidated fence, I suffered a bite to my wrist which only just missed my tendons and artery. The teeth met through my flesh and as I ushered the dogs inside, was trapped while the terrier held on, and the owner pulled for it to let go.

The trauma continued within the flat, with constant leaks and a temperamental boiler. Mold and mildew, thanks to a lack of double glazing, became a constant battle and for six months, near the end of our time living there, we were without hot water and heating. Baths with pots and pans of boiled water and strip washes in front of the kitchen sink, became an everyday occurrence as I pushed through by pretending it was training for my dream off grid existence! At every attempt to rectify, renovate and rescue our home, the issues we found continued to grow and as leaseholders, with very little interest or aid from the council. By the time our relationship had ended, and we were moving on, I had nothing left to give and wanted nothing more than to walk away in whatever way I could.

I certainly had the option of starting again, of finding a new build within my budget like my ex, but the thought filled me with dread. Somehow, it felt like going backwards and I had already lost years in the wrong home.

For me, the flat was like a cage. It was my home and the only place I could go for safety and comfort, but within its walls I felt trapped. Confrontation with neighbours left me shaken and often afraid to leave. I came to know the routes through the woods and heathland better in the dark, as I could only walk the dogs safely after nightfall. As the flat seemed to be crumbling, structurally around us, so did our relationship. Walking through our home, was like walking through a pit of toxicity as both our physical and mental health reached an all time low.  I sometimes barred even my parents from visiting. No-one could thrive in that environment and our relationship certainly didn’t.

I knew as soon as I had made up my mind, that Vanlife was the next stage of my journey, that I would call my home on wheels ‘Towanda’.

I have a funny sort of memory really. I couldn’t tell you what I ate yesterday or what fish I always get from the chippy. I’m terrible with names, unless paired with an interesting fact and even if I write a card in advance, odds are I’ll forget to send it for your Birthday.  Yet I can watch a movie once or listen to a song and remember the lines instantly. This was of both great amusement and annoyance to friends and family growing up, who would have to suffer me parroting the script of my favourite movie, as I either watched it in my head or over their shoulders.

I have a passion and deep love for many 80’s and early 90’s movies. I didn’t realise, until I was an adult that the films I grew up watching and loving were unusual for a child that age. I had access to a great library, whether on VHS, DVD and even laser disc, in the early years. Duchess of Duke Street, the ITV period drama and the BBC Pride and Prejudice, Steel Magnolias, Circle of Friends and of course ‘Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Café’ were movies I would watch repeatedly and quote back and forth with my mum. Along with music, a particular passion of my dad’s, I certainly stumbled into my early teens with dubiously eclectic taste.

To some, the name 'Towanda', is a fun take on the phrase ‘To wander’, which is certainly the intent of my adventures on the road. To me however, and those who know me well, will recognize it as the alter ego of Idgie Threadgood and later Evelyn Couch. Fried Green Tomatoes is a movie I love dearly and growing up, I felt great kinship to the character of Idgie – or ‘Towanda, the amazing amazon woman’! Idgie was wild and unapologetically herself, in an age where women were expected to behave a certain way. This resonated with me deeply, as I returned to the UK from France as a young teen, unable to relate to others my own age. While my peers discussed boys, read gossip magazines and logged in to Bebo, I watched Beyblade on repeat and prayed to unknown gods to be magically transported through the TV into other worlds.

Idgie was the wild wolf woman so many of us wish we could be, and my inner child still longs to live up to.

It’s funny now, as an adult, to find myself more of an Evelyn Couch (without the same kind of insurance!) as I step out into the world again, in search of my spark, my inner Idgie. Yet Evelyn’s story and transformation, serves as hope that it’s possible.

Towanda, ‘the amazing Berlingo Multispace’, was one of several options, in my search for the perfect micro camper. From my research I knew that these van-like cars, could often be picked up cheap as ex-disability vehicles, with low milage and internals ready for renovation.

I was terrified to drive her at first, when my parents and I made the trip up to Peterborough to check her out. She felt huge in comparison to what I was used to, and it had been over a week since I had passed my test and so driven a car. She was rough around the edges and needed some work, but aside from the marvel that she was mine – that I could drive, I felt an instant connection. As much as a car can feel like a friend, she felt like mine and even now as we travel about, I find myself talking to her as you might a wayward and temperamental horse.

Like Evelyn, the spirit of Towanda pushes me out of my comfort zone, to face some of my biggest fears. She forces me to find confidence, to be bold on the road. To get out and take chances, make changes, even when I’d rather hide under the duvet and not be seen, not be perceived by the world.

When I was told my dreams would never happen, that I had to let them go, Evelyn came to my mind.

“Evelyn... it's never gonna happen. So just forget about it.”

“Don't you ever say "never" to me. Someone helped put a mirror up in front of my face, and I didn't like what I saw one bit. You know what I did? I changed.”

The journey to embark on solo vanlife and into the unknown is scary, challenging and unlike anything I’ve ever done. As I carry the spirit of Towanda with me and for the love of my two neurotic dogs, like Evelyn I hope I can change. I hope I can find the confidence to be ‘me’ again.