Nick Andrew: Spending Christmas in my car

A few weeks ago jersey gave way to fleece. Now I am sporting both. As I face ‘homeless’ winter number 11 after giving up my job teaching, overwhelmed by debt and depression, I know that layering clothes is the key to keeping warm. At night I sleep under my 10-tog duvet, fully clothed with my feet toasted by thermal socks the size of unfashionable wellies. I slumber soundly, feeling lucky that for the last 10-plus years I have had a car to kip in.

Christmas on the road is a bit of a nightmare: parking becomes more difficult, laybys are busier with more delivery trucks. I have to change my daily shop to weekly because the shops get too busy, and my diet slightly changes as I can store food in the car longer due to the cold. Nearer Christmas week, every aisle is clogged with overfilled trolleys. There is no way any human can eat that much food. The waste is inexcusable. These people should be made to live in a car until they learn to temper their intake.

Every morning my insides react to a mix of roughage and coffee in predictable ways. I have to calculate which toilet is the nearest and how long it will take. In December I have to factor in an exponential timeframe, influenced by how close to the seasonal apocalypse we are. It’s a horrible feeling sitting in a line of cars, trying to get into a supermarket car park with your tearful inner child screaming: “I need a poo!”

Christmas on the road is a bit of a nightmare: parking becomes more difficult, laybys are busier with more delivery trucks

No matter what the temperature, as a musician I still have to practise and study. I practise in the morning and try to work (composing, writing, studying) at night, preferably in the warmth of a pub. As pubs become busier, it is nigh impossible to find a socket to charge my laptop or smartphone, so I have to plan my work very carefully. I can charge electronics in my car but I have to be careful not to drain the battery. You don’t want to be stuck in a remote layby, in −17°c with a flat battery (trust me).

Running the engine uses more (increasingly expensive) fuel, which makes me more empathetic to pensioners who can’t afford to heat their houses in winter. Back on the roads there are more police interruptions due to condensation on the car window. They like to check you are not becoming a seasonal suicide statistic and this can also lead to a breathalyser test, especially popular north of the border where the alcohol limit, along with the constabulary boredom threshold, is lower.

For goodness’ sake don’t mention snow! The merest suggestion empties supermarkets of food and causes countrywide chaos. I don’t mind the snow. It makes the air warmer and roads clearer. Being an old-school Scot I know to drive slower with less air in my tyres, to buy extra food (sweeties) and carry a shovel in the boot. I keep the world turning by helping those that get stranded, and if I get stuck I’m already home.

I count myself very fortunate that I can drive my home, home, to my (untragic) family

I know many people who like to work or be alone at Christmas. This can be due to a tragic family event or just a tragic family. I count myself very fortunate that I can drive my home, home, to my (untragic) family. I see them once a year. I don’t earn enough to go back more frequently. After so many years of ‘when are you going to get a house?’ my lifestyle is now accepted as ‘typical Nick’. I still get spoiled at Christmas with underwear and socks. The luxuries of central heating, washing machine and a graffiti-less, potpourri smelling toilet are most welcome. I really can’t get used to sleeping in a bed though.

Aside from this, my personal relationship with Christmas is very ‘Bah Humbug’. The festive season brings less money as more gigs get cancelled. It’s an expensive month with more travel and last-minute present buying. I do my shopping on Christmas Eve amongst the indecisive and hopelessly unorganised. Buying last-minute presents, performing a Christmas Eve gig then driving 500 miles and unloading in time for my sister’s kids to wake up makes perfect sense.

Then it’s all over in the fart of a well-brandied pudding. After a couple of days off, next is the drive down south for a Hogmanay gig, followed by the long, grey, bleak month of nothing that is January.

On the upside, I have fresh socks and pants. Hooray for Xmas!

Nick’s book Backseat Bedroom is out now. Zipper Tongue’s album Above All Noise is on Amazon, iTunes and CDbaby