Floods of Fearful Feelings

Updated: Feb 10

There are many, many videos of my #vanlife that I've been making of late. Some really rather fun to make. And my following on Campervan-K has been increasing - not least because of the 'Cooking in my Camper' videos which seems to pique a little bit of interest.

But hey, it doesn't matter, as long as I enjoy myself and teach people who don't know how to cook, how to cook. In addition to this, many of the videos I've been creating have been showing people without campers, or those who are contemplating getting one and living in it, how life really is - away from the glossy tv production and supermodel type vids that seem to be the rage on YouTube right now.

At the beginning of March, something I had feared for a long time came to fruition. My old cottage flooded. While I felt for the person who had bought my home, I felt relieved that God had guided me in the right direction at the right time.

My step-father had told everyone who visited it about the floods of 2007 and that the council had built a barrier to protect it. However, as with everything else in llife, he couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't happen again.

They took the advice on board and, many, many, many viewings later - one person was prepared to take the chance and bought it.

Sadly, his caution came true.

The barrier erected was up to a certain level and everytime I saw the flooding of the fields come along from my back bedroom window, they reached the tip of the barrier.

I believe the houses were flooded this time because of the building that was being done for the new bridge across the Severn.

It's like having a glass of water and seeing the level right up to the brim.

Common sense tells you not to go and put an ice cube (or a stone) in it - as that would make it go over the top.

The building plans brought along heavy bulldozers, lorries, cabins and moved soil into hills. You don't do that without making plans to dig holes elsewhere to relieve the pressure on the barrier.

You would expect planners to make plans for that. They're experts after all. But they didn't.

The inevitable happened.

The water found a way to tip over the edge.

For the first time in a long time, I visited my doctor. I had been feeling anxious for a long while. Things were happening around me that made me feel unsafe. My body kept trembling and I had a feeling of nausea in my gut that just wouldn't go away.

Plus, I kept crying all the time. I just couldn't stop the tears flowing. Endlessly.

He was impressed with my healthy attitude to life and, before I left, I said to him:

"Thank you. You're the best doctor I've come across. Intelligent and wise. And you've accepted my explanation without trying to push drugs onto me. I appreciate that."

He smiled and seemed to appreciate my sentiment.

I meant it.

On March 16th something really rather odd happened. The whole country was told to leave work and go home and stay there.

I had been staying on a campsite, which closed and turfed me off out of their midst. I'm kind of living in my camper and now how nowhere to go that's safe. But that didn't seem to make any headway with the owners.

Therefore, understading that my camper was specifically designed to allow me to live off-grid, I felt as though I was being forced to do so. To test it out.

I parked-up along a fairly quiet street and settled down for a nice night's kip.

Until the banging and scratching on my walls began to disturb me. I opened the door to find some young people staring at me.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah! You can piss off. We don't want your germs!"


Without retaliating, I smiled weakly, trembled, closed my door - rather firmly - got dressed, fired-up the engine and drove away.

I drove and drove and drove, scared, alone, fearful.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't know where to go.

I ended up at my parents home where I was given sanctuary for a few days. I decided not to tell them about my experience. It would only have scared them more.

As it was, they were fearful of what was happening and wanted me to leave because they, too, didn't want to catch the virus.

So, homeless, alone and frightened I reached out to a friend who (so very thankfully) took me in.

Just last week, the scenario had gotten much worse.

The toilet roll wars had begun.

My hope for humanity was beginning to be depleated. I wondered to myself, how on earth can we survive this, if we're fighting over toilet rolls?

I felt then, that our dear old brave and courageous British nation, at that moment had become the ridicule of the world.

I hoped against all hope that this would change. Somehow we would find our brave spirit again. Somehow courage would rise up and we would be able to be strong again.

But when?


Kaye Bewley MA

Author’s Bio:

Kaye is a freelance publisher, author and certified psychotherapist with over three decades of experience. She is also a writer for various blogs about writing, publishing, travelling and health care.

Feel free to visit her site, where you can sign-up to follow her on her various social media platforms.

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