You live in a HOUSE??? Whow ....?

When I first posted the picture of the car in my lounge onto Facebook I received various reactions, shock, horror, dismay, condolence. From one particular source I received a comment that really made me smile. While discussing my predicament around the kitchen table with her family, an old school friend was surprised to hear her grown son's amazement upon learning that I lived in a HOUSE!

The very next day I received a message from Helen plus a photo showing me the life style Joe thought I lived. I laughed, posted a comment or two back and got on with the job of sorting the house out.

Now I am a HUGE believer in the Law of Attraction, what we focus upon we empower, good or bad. For a few moments I had focused on the idea of having a van, I had thought about the things I could do, the places I could go, the layout, the expense. Somewhere into the Universe these thoughts went for lo and behold one month later not one but TWO LDV Convoys came up for sale within one mile of the workshop.

By the end of the week Peter owned one and I owned the other!

Paper and pencils were pulled from the draw as I drew design after design, moved beds from one side to the other, put in sinks, cookers, cupboards and shelves. I read articles on the internet about Tiny Homes, researched LDV conversions, the pitfalls, the ideas. By the time I took delivery of my new bus I was ready!

The Bus however was not! Although she has only 61,000 on the clock the spacial awareness of the drivers who had transported the Outdoor Activity students from Corris to Aberllefenni for the last six years had been, shall we say ... unusual!?!

Long scratches pitted with rust ran along her sides, her front and rear bumpers were well tested, dents could been seen in the various panels to the rear and her insides had taken an even worse beating!

Seats once new and pristine had been used and abused over her life time as a student transporter. The mud enriched fabric was torn and snagged exposing the foam and metal inside the seats. Crisp and sweet papers were discovered in the most amazing places, the flooring was growing small plants and the moss collection nestled beneath the front seats was simple incredible!

Kris was roped in to remove the entire insides while I scrubbed and weeded the front.

Knuckles were hit, skin was ripped as he struggled to undo bolts rusted and fused onto the floor.

Seat belts were stripped from the seating for future use …. as what I have no idea yet but they are too strong and good to throw away.

Eventually everything was out.

We re-loaded the enormous pile from the road side back into the minibus for a monstrous trip to the tip.

Kris was also roped into building me a new patio, a patio that involved the removal of an old clothes line, a clothes line attached to a concrete post that had been embedded into a four foot square solid concrete block, that in turn was buried deep into the garden.

At the local recycling centre we rolled, levered and eventually tipped the block along with all the seating and flooring into the skip and dusty, dirty but happy, we headed home.

Now it was time to attack the rust spots and dents.

Again Kris rose to the challenge and along with Peter

they destroyed the inside of my precious bus with screwdrivers and hammers as they located every tiny piece of weakness and battered it into oblivion.

With a final look at my shell of a bus Peter drove her to Corfields garage to begin the body rebuild.

At the end of the first week I asked how it was going. “Slowly” was the reply, no more.

At the end of the second week I asked how it was going. “Getting there,” was the reply.

At the end of the third week I asked again. “You don't seem to realise how much work is involved!!” I was told, “I'll let you know when it is ready”. I didn't ask again.

Two months went past. I bought old quilts from the charity shops and made appliquéd scenes to act as curtains. I went to IKEA twice and bought storage boxes, a sink, jugs and funnels. I bought LED lights, reversing sensors, battery charger but there was still no word from the workshop.

I could stand the suspense no longer and that weekend (as casually as I could make it,) I asked how it was going. “She's going to be re-sprayed this week” I was informed. Beginning of the week? End of the week? Should I book the MOT? Insurance? “Just wait” I was told.

Another two weeks went past. My designs were so fine tuned by now that I had visually moved in in my head but no bus stood outside my house. The IKEA sink sat on top of the huge pile of boxes, jugs, trims and old seatbelts in the outer kitchen, my drawing sat on top.

In July, just as the insurance fiasco was reaching its climax, Peter announced the bus was done and I could book the MOT..... It FAILED!!!

Back to the garage it went, the rear wheels were removed, the brake cylinders were removed from Peter's LDV and put onto mine. (The gear box from his Bus had already been removed to go into the school bus so he didn't need brakes at this time!)

We went back to the MOT station and by the end of July I had a bus and what a bus it was. Every bump, every scratch, every dent was gone. Every piece of rust and decay had been stripped, ground, sanded and welded. Peter and the boys had worked miracles on the body work and the respray had restored the sad beaten girl into a woman of beauty.

I had an MOT, I had Road Tax, I even had insurance; albeit in Peter's name with me as a named driver. As I haven't had insurance in my own name since I left the UK to do my world tour in 2010 my no claims had lapsed. When I tried to insure the Bus they had requested close to £1,000!! Even my little Tigra that used to cost me £120 was now costing me £500! I pointed out that I was female, over fifty, had never made a claim but it made no difference. I took out the insurance on the Tigra, Peter insured the bus and next year with my One Year no claim on the Tigra I will try again!!

By now the summer was in full swing at the shop, tourists and locals alike piled into the shop every day buying, chatting, shopping until we closed the doors. With the shop safely secured I would return home and begin working on the bus. I sanded in the shop, I sanded at home. I jig-sawed at work, I jig-sawed at home.

Dust filled the garden, dust filled the air. My neighbour came to watch as the power tools whirled away.

He remarked that he had never known a woman so at home with planers and sanders, routers and circular saws. John's training at the shop for the past three years had obviously paid off!

Bit by bit the bus took shape. Peter had fitted a window into the roof, I bought carpet to fit around it while Peter and the neighbours shook their heads.

I fitted underlay to the floor, covered it with sheet boarding and topped it with wood effect lino. The walls were stuffed with roofing insulation and covered with plywood that I waxed and polished to look like oak.

Panels were cut for the back doors, the sliding door, even Peter was impressed with my accuracy.

The summer was glorious. Each day the sun shone brightly, each day my garden grew.

I dug the first of the potatoes that had been planted TWO whole years previous and had never appeared until this spring!!

I harvested rhubarb (crossed with Gunnera)

I decided where I wanted my lights as Peter ran cables the length and breath of the bus. Peter had bought a sign maker for the Taxi Company and after much deliberation the bus was officially named LADY SAGE. Large letters were computer generated, cut and pealed and placed upon her prow. She had been born!

So we threw in some matresses and quilts and took her and the dog to the beach for the night to celebrate!!

We slept so well that night, Lady Sage cradled us like children within her protective shell, the dog wasn't so sure about all the jumping in and falling out but the journey had started.

There is a lovely saying that goes ….

Always remember that your present situation is not your final destination, the Best is yet to come!

Part 2 will be up in one week!!! xxx