Snug in my caravan

A small print of this gorgeous Van Gogh hangs on my wall and has travelled with me to the Land of the Standing Stones. As I set it in place, my gypsy caravan is complete.

It is a cosy little place, snug against whatever we find as we travel. The bed is at the far end from the door, covered with a curtain and a patchwork quilt to keep out the night chill. There are cupboards and drawers underneath the bed where I have stored most of my belongings, including my notebooks, art supplies and collage bits and pieces.

A little fold down table is set for tea, in case any other travellers drop in. I have my teapot nd a good supply of damper and golden syrup. I'm not sure what the American contingent will make of home made bread and the sticky sweet tinned conconction that traditionally accompanies it, but at least I didn't bring Vegemite. I'm sure someone else will anyway.

On the little stove is the black pot I bake my damper in, a whistling tea kettle and a pot for soup. I am reminded of Toad's caravan because it is painted the same canary yellow and inside -

"It was indeed very compact and comfortable. Little sleeping bunks -- a little table that folded up against the wall -- a cooking-stove, lockers, bookshelves, a bird-cage with a bird in it; and pots, pans, jugs and kettles of every size and variety.
`All complete!' said the Toad triumphantly, pulling open a locker. `You see -- biscuits, potted lobster, sardines -- everything you can possibly want. Soda-water here -- baccy there -- letter-paper, bacon, jam, cards and dominoes -- you'll find,' he continued, as they descended the steps again, `you'll find that nothing whatever has been forgotten, when we make our start this afternoon.'

There may be strange and even dangerous times ahead, but this is the life, the only life, as I snuggle into the cushions and open Wind in the Willows to read by lamplight.