The Van That Vanished

I’m sitting here on my self-carved seat, with the self-crafted holster made from leftover latex covered in beautiful sand-golden velvet, for about an hour now, staring around me. What is going on? Everything is almost normal — just with the difference that I have a week of going through hell behind me.

My beautiful Ludwig VAN Beethoven had been gone for one week and one day, almost precisely. It had been stolen. Or had it? Or had aliens taken it and dropped it back to Earth not too far from where they had taken it? Or was I just utterly stupid and had parked it in a different bay than usual? Whilst the latter was the most logical explanation, there were a few clues suggesting otherwise.

It all started on Tuesday, the 3rd of February, when I parked Ludwig VAN in my usual parking bay on Orient Way. There are free parking bays there for up to three hours. The one I usually park in smells of piss and has ugly surroundings, but it’s the closest to Stratford.

I took out my folding bike and cycled to Westfield and to Sadler’s Wells East to do some errands — and overstayed my parking by almost an hour.

When I arrived back, THE VAN WAS GONE !.

I could not believe it. I cycled further down the road, blinked my eyes, and cycled back to the parking bay. But it was true. My van was gone.

All investigations during the next two hours brought no results, so I was advised to report it stolen.

From there, I lived for a week in shock. Lots of amazing human beings around me helped and looked after me, but I felt as if I had gone through a door into a different world — some kind of bad dream. It could not be true that my violins and all the other special things were gone, taken by some evil human who had no idea what they had robbed.

And there I was, one week and one day later.

After seeing my post, Tom from BVB had the genius idea to check with his colleagues in the parking ticket department. I thought that if there was a parking ticket for my overstayed parking, maybe the time of the theft could be detected more precisely.

What he discovered was gobsmacking: two parking tickets — but only for the Monday and Tuesday one week later. And in a different bay.

He cycled there. And what was waiting?

Ludwig VAN Beethoven. Almost untouched.

I raced to the place.

And here I sat, one week and one day later, yet again too shocked to understand. Was I really that stupid?

But although self-locked, the side door was just one centimetre ajar. Days later, I discovered a small fault in the lock. Also, how could the fridge still be running? The leisure battery would only last a maximum of three days without the engine running. Then there were these mysterious surgical gloves dropped just outside the side door.

After overcoming the first shock, I opened the side door, and no — I had not parked in that bay before. It looked different. It smelled different. So I started trusting my judgement a little more.

The real giveaway, though, was the driver’s seat — just that little bit further back than I drive with.

Only later did it occur to me that there were no parking tickets from the week before. So here we go. Back to aliens or robbers.

Now, five days later, I’m starting to feel like a human again. I keep discovering beautiful little things that the week before I thought were lost forever, and for which I had already said my inner goodbyes and done so many letting-go rituals.

And it is such joy to rediscover so many little treasures.

Why did this happen? I asked myself that question countless times.

I learned that I can let go — material things are just things.

But during those ten days, I discovered, learned, and experienced something absolutely amazing: I have a spiritual family out there who cares, who helps, and who is there for me. I can ask for their help. And I can accept it.

This was huge for me. And I am so incredibly grateful — words of thanks cannot fully express it.