Upstairs, Downstairs: Sleeping in a motorhome
The sound reminded me of a blunt handsaw cutting hardwood; a low rasp rising and falling, endlessly cycling through the night. The sound was enough to make a grown man cry. Which was a shame, because the offensive noise was a recording of me snoring after a night of overindulgence after a party in the mid-nineties. I blamed a nose bent out of shape in countless teenage brawls. My then wife blamed excessive drinking.
I don’t drink much these days, and I don’t snore as much as I used to. A couple of beers a night is usually the limit. I suspect that now I’m rapidly approaching sixty, age is more to blame for my nighttime racket.
Sleeping in a small space with someone who snores isn’t easy. Our home, in its tiny entirety, encompasses two hundred square feet. It’s about one and half times the size of a bedroom in a modern house. It’s small, and that compact space needs to sleep two adults and, two large dogs which also snore.
Built in 2003, our Hymer is getting on a bit. She’s past her prime, but she’s a thoroughbred. We have everything we for a comfortable life, including two double beds. One is a fixed double in the Hymer’s rear next to our cubicle sized bathroom. The other is a drop down bed above the driver and passenger seats. Deploying the front bed takes seconds. We fold the front seats flat and then pull the bed down into the empty space.
We use both beds regularly. Sometimes I snore. Sometimes there’s more noise – wind, traffic or neighbours – at one end of the Hymer than the other. On occasion, one of us wants to read late at night. Once in a while we just need to have a little personal space. I use the rear bed every day as an office for blogging and writing. Having two comfortable bed gives us options unavailable in smaller motorhomes.
Life on the road doesn’t allow us all of the luxuries we once had in our respective bricks and mortar homes, but what we lose in material possessions and unnecessary cosseting, we gain in ever-changing dramatic landscapes and rich life experiences which no amount of money can buy.