It's dark and cramped but for Rosie Kloska it's home. As the government reviews the lack of affordable property in rural areas, Rosie explains the challenges of living in a van.
I am an artist living in St Agnes, a large village in Cornwall, and make ends meet by working in a pub. Instead of a home, I live in a converted van.
Many people I know suffer the instability of having to move home every six months because properties are only available to rent for the winter, being used as holiday lets during the summer.
Life in the van is cramped. I have a king-sized bed, although the roof is so low I can't sit up in it. Below, I have storage tank, a sink, gas hobs for cooking, a fridge and a wood burning stove, which heats my water.
When it comes to water, I fill up a 10-litre container at friends' houses or campsites. Instead of turning on a tap, I have to hand pump water from the container into my sink. The best thing about this system is that I am very aware of how much water I am using. Water is not something that just slips through my fingers.
Surfaces in the van are small and have to be made as practical as possible, and kept clear because when I drive even short distances things can fall and break. Regularly-used objects are braced or hooked to the walls and ceiling for easy access.
Well, I'm not alone in struggling with somewhere to live. Most of my contemporaries have a hard time, be it living with parents well into their 20s or simply forgoing all luxury items and even basic necessities such as heat to afford somewhere.
Very few young people can afford to buy in the area; with an average property in Cornwall costing eleven times the average income. The public loos in this village have been turned into holiday homes. A two-bedroom property with a sea-view will set you back £400,000.
But I persevere with my low income and van life because I'm trying to get my small, community-based business off the ground. It's a compromise I am willing to make. However, even when I was a teaching assistant at a local school and a support worker for autistic adults, I still lived in a van.
I'm not alone in living in something like this. I have a number of friends with well-paid jobs who have to live in caravans, yurts and vans - usually in part to save or pay back debt.
My future living situations are open at the moment. I am looking forward to the longer, lighter summer days. It's a joy to live outside in lovely weather. At the end of the summer I will have another Cornish winter in my sights. I intend to look towards something a bit more stationary, and permanent.
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Getting on the property ladder seems such a far-fetched idea for me that it has ceased to become an ambition. I know that I will never be able to buy a house unless I move away.
Rosie Kloska
I'm more mobile. I do not have a permanent place to park my van, and not wishing to break the law, I must move around. I am lucky to have friends who let me stay for a few days on their land. The rest of the time I move around various "spots" on the beautiful north Cornwall coast.
Storage has to be extremely organised and tidy: A has to move so B can slide until you can open C. The list goes on. You can get to J before you have found what you want. It's all part of the experience. How has my life become an algebra equation in order to make sense?
Simple things like electricity require planning. I don't have an electric hook up - instead I have a 12-volt battery with a converter that has to be recharged about once a week depending on usage. It means I can only run a radio, and an energy-saving light bulb. I can charge my laptop or phone, but not at the same time.
Find our more about Rosie's life in a van by watching the Politics Show, on the BBC's iPlayer.
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