A Cozy Campervan in Rainy Ireland ✨ Relaxing Sleep Story

[00:00:10] Hi there, Sleepwavers! Karissa here with a dreamy story for you to drift off to. In tonight's story, we're hunkering down in a campervan as a woman called Lizzie takes a trip across Ireland, keeping warm and cozy despite the rainy day. In addition to taking us on sweet travels, this story also reminds us to listen to our own hearts and inner guidance. Such a wonderful reminder to have in our minds as we fall asleep.

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[00:03:44] Now, let's begin. Lizzie had been lucky. She had traveled around Ireland for five whole days before the rain arrived. Each morning had started with exquisite sunrises.

[00:04:05] The sorts where the sun drifted idly across the horizon, and the sky took its time shifting from deep blues to pale grays and pinks. She had opened the rear doors of her camper van and lain in bed. A thick pile of blankets wrapped around her as she watched the world coming to life.

[00:04:29] She had counted oyster catchers on the shore, watching as they darted away from the incoming waves, thrusting their bright red beaks into the damp sand. And there was the morning she woke to realize the van was rocking, when she pulled open the curtains to see cows grazing outside and one leaning up against Dave. That was what she'd called the van, and rubbing its rump while munching on grass.

[00:05:00] Dave was a white van, the sort builders often drove. And Lizzie had kept him as anonymous as possible. There were no stickers, no, I've driven the West Highland Way mementos. No flags from the countries she'd driven through. With this level of anonymity came the possibility of parking Dave in the center of cities where people thought nothing of him.

[00:05:27] Dave, a builder's name for a builder's van, but one that sparkled inside. Pot plants were held on a shelf by a bungee cord, green foliage draping itself down one wall. Cups hung on hooks and swung cheerfully back and forth as Lizzie and Dave roamed the world together.

[00:05:52] A wooden chopping board could be lifted to reveal a little round sink, and if you pulled up the part of the counter alongside, then two rings of a gas burner would be found. She had a fridge and drawers to pack her clothes away, and a shelf lined with books to suit every mood, and a bed that ran from one side of the van to the other as the coziest of nests.

[00:06:22] They'd been so many places together over the years, Lizzie constantly tweaking and perfecting the arrangements inside as she came up with newer or better ideas. Decorating an entire house was an expensive, arduous task. Decorating the inside of a van was a delight.

[00:06:47] A leftover piece of carpet from a friend's refit, a repurposed set of shelves another was throwing out, a cushion found in a charity shop, and a sarong tied artfully over the front seat. This was all it took to turn a plain van into a home. Well, that and a bit of imagination.

[00:07:17] It meant that on days like this, when the rain arrived, she would be cozy. Properly cozy. She had her mind set on a place called Dingle on the west coast of Ireland.

[00:07:35] For no particular reason beyond she rather liked the name, and she drove along the narrow strips of gray road that shone with dampness, splashing through puddles and looking out over mile after mile of rolling green fields. It wasn't called the Emerald Isle for nothing.

[00:08:01] She went through small villages that seemed to blend together, each equipped with a hardware store, buckets and mops, drying racks and plastic bins lined up outside,

[00:08:19] and a flower shop, a bakery and a butchery, and a newsagents and a branch of the post office that invariably seemed to be open for just a few hours a day, a couple of days a week.

[00:08:36] On this rainy day, the few people she saw were farmers out in fields, tractors roaming to and fro across the earth, or women clutching umbrellas and scuttling between stores.

[00:08:56] Lizzie followed the signs that promised a cafe, bumbling along a rutted farm truck that passed over cattle grids, and through gates where she had to dive out into the rain and rush about with opening and closing. One of those few moments she wished her husband came on these trips with her.

[00:09:24] Because this was Lizzie's thing. Dave was very much hers and hers alone. Her husband, Robin, stayed at home. He wasn't one for messing about in vans and preferred his holidays in hotels, or, better yet, right there in his own home.

[00:09:46] He was never more content than when armed with a bacon sandwich, a book, a TV remote, and snowdrift the cat by his side. Lizzie liked to see things, to go places, to peer into the lives of others, and then come back refreshed to her own. Neither of them would have changed a thing.

[00:10:14] The cafe was in what must have once been the living room of a farmhouse, and, perhaps unsurprisingly on such a blustery day, she was the only customer. It took a full ten minutes before anyone noticed she'd arrived, and then a lady as wide as she was tall bustled over with a notepad, an apology, and a smile.

[00:10:45] Tea and cake it is, love, she said with a smile, heading through the beaded curtain to where the kitchen lay. Lizzie sat and looked out at the rain, her hands resting on the checkered red and white tablecloth, and playing with the sugar packets. Even though it was just her inside, the windows started to steam up,

[00:11:10] the warmth from the fire lifting the dampness from her coat and hair. A grandfather clock ticked in the corner, the second seeming to pass more slowly here than back in her real world, and she was just pondering whether in somewhere this cozy she might be able to fall asleep sitting upright in a wooden chair

[00:11:36] when the lady reappeared bearing a tray. A large teapot wrapped in a red-knitted tea cozy was accompanied by a slice of cake so huge it could have lasted Lizzie a week, but she set about it with a fork and determination to clear what she could.

[00:12:01] The teapot must have held ten cups, and she tried her best to drink as many of the increasingly strong brew as she could. Not long later, a family of four turned up and bustled over to the far side of the room. There was a great shaking of coats and arranging of boots in front of the fire,

[00:12:29] and Lizzie used the opportunity to slip a bill onto the table, leaving a generous tip, and head outside without having to work out how to politely explain to the woman that most people were incapable of consuming such vast quantities in a single sitting. Any drying off she had managed in the cafe was quickly undone

[00:12:58] as she went through the rigmarole once more of opening and closing the three gates. Lizzie turned the heater up and the radio on, and the windscreen wipers dashed back and forth. The world had become gray and white, just gray and white, but she pressed on with her plan to reach Dingle.

[00:13:29] When she finally arrived, she could see some semblance of a harbor to one side of her, and the buildings were all so brightly painted in such cheerful colors, they couldn't help but stand out through the rain. Bright red fishing boats bobbed in the safety of the harbor, the sea beyond the gray of steel.

[00:13:57] A man in a green coat, bent almost in half and holding the hood over his head with one hand, was being pulled along by a black Labrador, the dog delighted to be outside whatever the weather. Lizzie thought of Snowdrift, probably curled up safely on the sofa alongside Robin,

[00:14:24] and how she peered at rain or snow or wind from the safety of the kitchen window. Snowdrift was more of an indoor sort of an animal, only venturing outside when there was no chance her paws would become muddy, but every chance she could find a sunny spot in the garden for a solid afternoon nap.

[00:14:53] She pulled out her map and checked once more the possible camping spots she'd marked, located after careful searching online, and reading suggestions and comments from those who had been before. It seemed as if there was an area on a cliff top not too far ahead, which had the added benefit, she noted,

[00:15:22] of having public bathrooms. P.B., as she wrote on her map, circled in red. That sort of thing was always a bonus when you were in a van as small as Dave, where she washed with a bucket and a flannel, and was obliged to disappear behind hedgerows when nature called.

[00:15:51] Quickly became more of a lane, most of the tarmac long gone, and she drove carefully, steering Dave away from the biggest of the potholes and puddles. The car park itself was graveled, the building of the public bathrooms pleasingly and somewhat surprisingly clean-looking, and with nobody else there,

[00:16:19] she parked the van in such a way that, should the rain clear and a sunset put on a display, she could lie in bed and watch the show. When Lizzie was a child, her bedroom had been in the converted attic of the family home. She was the sixth child, an unexpected late addition to the household,

[00:16:47] and lack of rooms dictated her parents create another up there beneath the slopes of the rooftop. Huge oak beams had run this way and that, some of the upright supporting ones standing right in the middle of her room. She loved it in the summer, when she could sleep with the skylights open,

[00:17:17] and be woken by the sound of sparrows, or a magpie dancing its way across the tiles. But she loved it even more in the winter, when the rain came, hammering on the roof, and making her feel even safer, and cozier, buried deep beneath her blankets.

[00:17:47] And perhaps this is why she loved being in the van quite as much as she did when it rained. Lizzie would clamber between the front seats and head into the back, slipping off her shoes and climbing into bed, even though it was only late afternoon when she arrived. She closed the curtains and created a cocoon,

[00:18:18] flicking on the fairy lights that ran around the shelves and jumbled their way across the hanging plants. Well insulated, she'd seen to that when she first got Dave, packing insulation in behind the plywood walls. The van kept the warmth from the heater. She wriggled down into the duvet,

[00:18:44] her head leaning back against the pile of pillows and cushions, and lay there, listening to the rain drumming steadily on the roof. She couldn't hear a sound beyond the rain. No screech of a seagull passing overhead. No crash of the waves on the cliffs just meters away from where she lay.

[00:19:14] The entire world in that moment was reduced to twinkling lights and soft bedding and the sound of the rain. In here, nothing bad ever could or ever would happen. In here was her safe space. Lizzie drifted off to sleep, waking a few hours later

[00:19:44] when the rain eased off a little and the sudden silence interrupted her dreaming. She reached over and opened the curtains a fraction, seeing just darkness outside. She sat up and leaned towards the other window, opening those curtains a crack too and seeing the lights of Dingle

[00:20:12] shining into the black of the night. A single light on a fishing boat showed it heading out of the harbor and towards the open sea. In the orange glow of the streetlights, she could see the rain, falling lighter now, but still there. The almost ever-present feature that was famous in Ireland.

[00:20:44] The rain eased off some more and Lizzie decided to make a dash for the bathrooms. Nobody else had appeared in the car park, of course not. Everyone else was sensible enough to not come to Ireland in March, she told herself. And she ran across as best she could, feet just loosely slipped into untied shoes.

[00:21:13] The inside of the building was as pleasingly and surprisingly clean as the outside. And there was even a separate stall with a sink that had hot running water. Washing in Dave was possible, but she couldn't stand upright and it was all a bit of an art. She would treat herself to a standing up,

[00:21:42] decent wash in the morning. When at home, Lizzie would run baths almost every day, disappearing into a steam-filled room and lying beneath bubble mountains for hours. But out on the road, she was content with a quick wash and the same clothes day after day.

[00:22:10] It was a small sacrifice to make for her freedom to travel. If she couldn't wash her hair, no bother. She just pulled a hat on instead. She had no interest in what anyone other than Robin thought. And with him safely stowed away at home, who cared what she looked like?

[00:22:37] In the entranceway to the bathrooms, before they divided into men's and women's, there was a notice board. Lizzie stopped to look, always amused by what you could find in random places such as this. Most of the posters and notices had clearly been there for years.

[00:23:05] And they hung, faded, and torn, promising prices that were no longer relevant to enter gardens and castles and go out from the harbor on fishing trips. There were some takeaway menus. A Chinese and an Indian. And Lizzie smiled to herself. Wherever she went,

[00:23:34] there was always a takeaway menu for a Chinese and an Indian. A promotional poster for a band playing at a pub called The Dingle Dog was three years out of date. A newer, shinier one promised a trad music sensation in three days' time, and Lizzie made a mental note of that,

[00:24:02] tucking it away in case she happened to be around here then. A map showed footpaths and viewpoints, and she traced her finger along some of the dotted lines, hoping that perhaps the rain would clear tomorrow, and she could explore some of those. As she started to head back to Dave,

[00:24:29] she saw a pair of headlights heading down the track. The vehicle slowly picking its way past the same potholes and puddles she'd navigated just hours before. She waited in the entranceway of the bathrooms, watching as another van, much larger than hers, much fancier,

[00:24:56] probably with a shower and everything on board, pulled to the far side of the parking lot. She could make out two shapes in the front, and the one in the passenger seat climbed out and dashed across to where Lizzie now stood. Hello, said a flustered face, disappearing into the women's in a whirl of floating red skirts.

[00:25:25] She emerged a few moments later and introduced herself as Bridget, and that over there, she said, pointing towards a man who was on his knees, putting bright yellow levelers beneath the van's wheels, was Peter. Here alone? She asked Lizzie, who nodded and smiled. Well, said Bridget,

[00:25:53] calling over her shoulder as she hurried back to the warmth. Do knock if you need anything, or if you get lonely. Lizzie smiled and waved back, wondering for the thousandth time why so many people who traveled in pairs thought she wasn't just fine by herself. She felt happier wrapped up in the coziness of Dave

[00:26:23] than anywhere else in the world. Everything was right when she was piled in the back of him, music playing, blankets bundled about her. Whenever she mentioned it to Robin, he laughed it off. Some people just don't need others, he said simply. You and I, we're different. That's all it is.

[00:26:53] As Lizzie walked back towards the white van, the rain started to come down harder again, and she ran the last few meters, almost falling out of her untied shoes. She dived back inside just as the heavens opened once more, the fairy lights winking a welcome home to her.

[00:27:18] As the rain hammered onto the roof once more, she bustled about making her dinner. Just pasta with tomato sauce and lashings of grated cheese on top, once more relishing the fact that somehow food cooked in the van tasted so much better than anything she ever made at home.

[00:27:46] She poured herself a glass of wine, deep and red, the color of melted rubies, and climbed into her pajamas, pulling on a pair of thick, woolly socks for good measure. The kettle whistled merrily on the stove, and she filled up a hot water bottle, tucking it into the center of the bed.

[00:28:16] To warm the sheets for her. She reached beneath the bed and rooted around for a while, finally pulling out the rolled-up puzzle mat. It was Robin's Christmas gift last year to her, and it was the perfect addition to her van life, especially on rainy nights such as this.

[00:28:45] Lizzie climbed into bed, sitting with her legs crossed and blankets pulled around her, opening out the puzzle mat on the remaining area of the bed, the glass of wine she added to the shelf behind her, nestling it between books in the space she had left for just this purpose.

[00:29:14] With the curtains closed to the outside world, and the fairy lights dancing along the walls, and the rain pouring relentlessly outside, she felt as if she must be the coziest, most content person for miles around. The puzzle was a picture of inside a bookshop,

[00:29:43] where she finally pieced together a cat curled up on a chair by the fire. And as she added books to the shelves, she grinned to see the titles and funny names of the authors the artist had created. The Carpet Fitter by Walter Wall, The Cuisine of France by Souffle.

[00:30:11] She worked slowly and steadily, picking up pieces and eyeing them critically. Before allocating them a slot, or putting them aside for a later attempt. It was calming, rhythmic work. The mind focused slowly on the purpose of finding pieces that fit together, and ignoring those that didn't.

[00:30:40] She found her breathing slowed when she did puzzles, and the knots that sometimes lived inside would unravel and disappear. And any worries of work or home, or the world beyond, became distant memories. Lizzie had always done puzzles as a child, but then forgot them for the next four decades,

[00:31:09] only coming back to them one weekend when she visited a friend. who had one spread out across the dining room table. More to please her friend than anything else. She had idly picked up a few pieces and found them homes. And then her friend had joined her, and they had sat in almost complete silence for the next few hours,

[00:31:40] only speaking to ask if this piece was one for the part they were completing, or sighing aloud when a particularly awkward part had been finished. And Lizzie had remembered the satisfaction and had taken the memory home with her. So here she was, in her van in the pouring rain,

[00:32:07] adding candlesticks to a mantelpiece and an old-fashioned cash register to a desk. Just as she found the pieces and padded them into place, so we do the same in our lives. We try things out and find they aren't for us, and we move on,

[00:32:34] waiting until the right fit comes along, waiting until we find where we belong. And for some of us, that will be with somebody else always at our side, unable to imagine what it must be like to find peace and contentment quite alone. And for some of us, such as Lizzie,

[00:33:04] safely stowed away in the back of her van on that rainy clifftop on the west coast of Ireland, it will sometimes be with others and sometimes quite alone, content in the world we have created for ourselves. Learn to listen to your heart and learn to find the lessons

[00:33:34] in the moments life leads us towards, for there is a rhyme and a reason and a rhythm to it all. And if we learn to follow those, if we learn to breathe and understand and feel as the world needs us to,

[00:34:03] then true contentment awaits. Sometimes true contentment means fairy lights and glasses of wine as red as glistening jewels and blankets drawn up to our chin and rain hammering down while we sit safe

[00:34:31] and warm within. and then we'll see you next time. let's see. I'm sorry.