Life in the Cold
The idea of living in the woods has been in my mind for years. When I was growing up I spent a lot of time playing in the forest.
I sleep in a sleeping-bag under a tarpaulin tied between two trees, which keeps the rain off, but it’s not very warm. At 6.30am I jump up and pack quickly. I take everything with me in my rucksack. I have to sleep in my clothes because it is so cold, and I add another couple of layers when I get up. Then I have to run for the bus and I get really hot. The journey to London can take two hours, but at least I get to sit in comfort. My work at Sotheby’s, the famous auction-house, is split between two places in London. I have to place bids for people who can’t be present at auctions. I stand next to the auctioneer, acting as a second pair of eyes, making sure that bidding runs smoothly. Everyone is very understanding at work, although I get teased relentlessly. They think I’m crazy.
Work starts at 9.00am, when I tend to have another breakfast at my desk, normally a full English breakfast. I eat a very large amount at the moment because I use so much energy keeping warm at night, and I’m so much more sensitive to temperature now. The heating at work is oppressive and can make me feel ill when the room is too hot.
Work finishes at 5.00pm, and I go to the gym. I went there a lot before winter, aware that I needed to be as fit as possible for the cold months. I’ve been going less frequently recently; I’m just concentrating on surviving. I get back to the woods around 8.30pm and change into my ‘wood’ clothes. I have three sets of clothes: a scruffy set for the wood, a casual set for travelling, and my smart clothes for work. Trying to co-ordinate my laundry can be really difficult. I’m on public display for my job, so it’s important to look the part, but I have found myself working in Hammersmith, only to realise my clean clothes are in Bond Street, in the centre of the city. I often end up in the woods with suits hanging from trees.
In the evenings, I sometimes go into town to see friends. Some nights I’m too exhausted, though. Last weekend I slept thirty-two hours out of thirty-six. It is nice to have the woods to go back to, especially when there’s a lot going on at work. With no phones or anything, I can just relax. But it’s also nice, after a weekend of getting grimy, to go to work and be smart.
I have been ill a couple of times from not cooking meat properly, and being careless about filtering water from the stream. I’ve also had bronchitis. But it’s an adventure. There’s something deeply satisfying about being out here. If I can light a fire and cook meat, as people have been doing for thousands of years, it strikes a chord.
I get into bed about 10.00pm and only leave the fire burning when it’s really cold. It isn’t scary, although I did get a shock once. I was in my hammock and heard a loud gnawing noise. I had visions of axe murderers and quickly sat up. I realised, as I came crashing to the floor, that it had just been the sound of a branch breaking.
Once I’ve drawn the sleeping-bag cord as tight as possible, I’m ready to sleep. I hear owls a lot, or the odd visitor having a peek at the shelter.
The idea of living in the woods has been in my mind for years. When I was growing up I spent a lot of time playing in the forest.
I sleep in a sleeping-bag under a tarpaulin tied between two trees, which keeps the rain off, but it’s not very warm. At 6.30am I jump up and pack quickly. I take everything with me in my rucksack. I have to sleep in my clothes because it is so cold, and I add another couple of layers when I get up. Then I have to run for the bus and I get really hot. The journey to London can take two hours, but at least I get to sit in comfort. My work at Sotheby’s, the famous auction-house, is split between two places in London. I have to place bids for people who can’t be present at auctions. I stand next to the auctioneer, acting as a second pair of eyes, making sure that bidding runs smoothly. Everyone is very understanding at work, although I get teased relentlessly. They think I’m crazy.
Work starts at 9.00am, when I tend to have another breakfast at my desk, normally a full English breakfast. I eat a very large amount at the moment because I use so much energy keeping warm at night, and I’m so much more sensitive to temperature now. The heating at work is oppressive and can make me feel ill when the room is too hot.
Work finishes at 5.00pm, and I go to the gym. I went there a lot before winter, aware that I needed to be as fit as possible for the cold months. I’ve been going less frequently recently; I’m just concentrating on surviving. I get back to the woods around 8.30pm and change into my ‘wood’ clothes. I have three sets of clothes: a scruffy set for the wood, a casual set for travelling, and my smart clothes for work. Trying to co-ordinate my laundry can be really difficult. I’m on public display for my job, so it’s important to look the part, but I have found myself working in Hammersmith, only to realise my clean clothes are in Bond Street, in the centre of the city. I often end up in the woods with suits hanging from trees.
In the evenings, I sometimes go into town to see friends. Some nights I’m too exhausted, though. Last weekend I slept thirty-two hours out of thirty-six. It is nice to have the woods to go back to, especially when there’s a lot going on at work. With no phones or anything, I can just relax. But it’s also nice, after a weekend of getting grimy, to go to work and be smart.
I have been ill a couple of times from not cooking meat properly, and being careless about filtering water from the stream. I’ve also had bronchitis. But it’s an adventure. There’s something deeply satisfying about being out here. If I can light a fire and cook meat, as people have been doing for thousands of years, it strikes a chord.
I get into bed about 10.00pm and only leave the fire burning when it’s really cold. It isn’t scary, although I did get a shock once. I was in my hammock and heard a loud gnawing noise. I had visions of axe murderers and quickly sat up. I realised, as I came crashing to the floor, that it had just been the sound of a branch breaking.
Once I’ve drawn the sleeping-bag cord as tight as possible, I’m ready to sleep. I hear owls a lot, or the odd visitor having a peek at the shelter.
