In September 2010, I spent seven nights and eight days in Barrow-in-Furness relying on the kindness of strangers and the bounty of the land to house and feed me. I spent two nights sleeping outdoors and five nights indoors – put up and fed by people I met as I wandered through the landscape.
An exercise in the luxury of choice and alternative notions of wealth, I went where the unfolding story took me. Listening, both to my own instincts, as well as to the words and actions of others, was the most important tool.
I thought I would have endless time, just wandering. I was wrong. Most of my time was spent trying to find somewhere to sleep. I needed to decide early each day whether I would sleep outside or find someone to put me up. In the first few days I found this very stressful. After the first night in a hedge, I was cold, wet and tired. I needed a bed for the second night, so I would have to find someone and ask them. Asking is hard. It’s embarrassing, it’s uncomfortable. It makes you vulnerable. But vulnerability invites people in, it allows them to drop their guard.
And tell the truth. The truth, at least in this case, was the best option.
I could have spent every night in a hedge. I would have been exhausted and extremely hungry by the end of the week. Berries and seaweed only go so far, and it takes a long time to catch a fish/ a rabbit. I didn’t want to isolate myself, it wasn’t an endurance test. I was exploring a landscape shaped by people, by communities. I went where my interactions with people took me. I used the resources available. I had a base in the local library where I tried to go each day so people could meet me and leave me messages. Derek left me an apple pie one day in the library, and wrote me a letter that cheered me up. I did some phone interviews on the local radio that led to the apple pie, as well as a bed for a night.
As the days went by and the story I told grew longer, the easier it was to find a bed. I also relaxed.
The only time I nearly made a mistake was when I let the construct of what I was doing impinge on my instincts. I nearly slept out somewhere I knew wouldn’t be entirely safe, but I thought, for the sake of the project, I should sleep somewhere different each night. Fortunately Terri offered me a bed for that night, via the local radio.
It was an odd reality, knowing that the only thing that kept me doing it was adherence to my own rules. It was both made up and real at the same time. It was an adventure.
