From Tents to Houses: Lessons in Living with Less

It all started with Black Friday sales. Power to my wife, who next year is embarking on a Shamanic Womancraft journey—something she’s wanted to do for years. She absolutely deserves it after dedicating the past 8.5 years to raising our children. Inspired by this, I started exploring the idea of taking my kids camping. Short, simple trips—just 2-4 days. The main hurdle? Finding an instant pop-up tent.

We already have a massive 10-person, 3-section tent. While great in theory, it takes 30 minutes to set up, and I’d prefer something quicker—something I can put up and peg down before my daughters start bickering or chasing wildlife.

After a quick search, I narrowed my options to a Coleman Excursion Instant Tent: a 4-person or 6-person model. The main difference? Dimensions:

• 4-person tent: 2400(L) x 2400(W) x 1900(H) mm

• 6-person tent: 3300(L) x 2700(W) x 1900(H) mm

The extra 90 cm in length and 30 cm in width seemed minor but had me deliberating. Price added another layer:

• 4-person tent: $199.99 (down from $499.99)

• 6-person tent: $239.99 (down from $599.99)

Let’s be real—these tents were never worth $500 or $600. But the discounts lured me in. The question: was an extra 90 cm worth $40?

This decision spiraled into a reflection on space and our tendency to overconsume. Michael Easter’s The Comfort Crisis critiques the growing size of homes in the U.S., despite recent trends leveling off. Bigger homes mean more space to clean and, more importantly, more space to fill. Australia’s storage unit occupancy rate hovering near 90% underscores this issue.

It resonated with me as we navigate the challenges of building a house. Our initial plan was for a 4-bedroom home, like the one we left in Camden. After living in a 3-bedroom rental, we opted for a 3-bedroom build instead. That extra room? Nice in theory, but it would’ve been mostly unused—a shrine to "stuff." It wasn’t aligned with what we want.

A house, in my view, serves two purposes:

1. A roof over your head: Shelter and safety.

2. An asset: A financial foundation.

Thousands of years ago, humans were nomads, moving to survive. Now, modern conveniences like supermarkets have tethered us to one place. But is settling down limiting our horizons? A friend’s decision to rent out their "forever home" highlights how life forces us to adapt. Maybe we need less permanence and more freedom to move, explore, and truly live.

I view life in sections and here are my sections of life so far:

1. Childhood in Solihull, England.

2. University in Nottingham.

3. First home with my now-wife, Karley, in Solihull.

4. Moving to Australia, living with Karley’s mum.

5. Our first home in Camden South, Sydney.

6. Raising our family in Bundanoon.

7. The unknown.

The future is fluid. Perhaps we’ll move back to the UK for a few years, or we might stay here until the kids finish school. That’s the beauty of life: embracing change and remaining open to possibilities.

And the tent? Downsizing from a 10-person behemoth to a 6-person tent felt like a leap. But with kids, we tend to overpack, so I opted for the larger size. Let’s be honest—we’ll probably fill it with things we don’t need. And that’s okay. Sometimes, the journey is in learning what truly matters.

Explaining Business to Your Children

Last weekend marked the first weekend of the NSW Garage Sale Trail.

We participated in this event last year after moving house. It was a fantastic opportunity to declutter and part ways with a lot of the stuff we’d lugged from our previous home—stuff that cost us thousands to move. Reflecting on our time living in Camden feels like looking back at a completely different chapter of life. Our mindset has shifted so much since then. That garage sale earned us $400, which we put towards a water filter—a small but meaningful improvement to our lives.

This year, things were a bit different. While we still had items to clear out, we’d just returned from an overseas trip and didn’t have the time to properly prepare. However, just before our trip, my wife’s dad gave us a big pile of DVDs. These had already been rejected by our local market (no surprise—DVDs hold little value in a world dominated by streaming services).

Instead of tossing them, I came up with a simple plan: DVDs by donation. The idea was straightforward—drop a coin (silver or gold) and take a DVD.

Setting the Scene

Early Saturday morning, I got up to set everything up: a crate of DVDs, a coffee table, a beach umbrella, and a hessian cover for the setup. During the week, I’d also created a page on the NSW Garage Sale Trail website to promote the sale.

While I hadn’t intentionally involved my kids in the process, their natural curiosity drew them in as I worked. I explained my plan, and they eagerly joined in by decorating the pavement with chalk, drawing love hearts, flowers, and suns around the area. Their excitement was contagious and gave the setup a personal, welcoming touch.

Back inside, I designed a small poster to explain the “DVDs by donation” concept, giving the kids a quick lesson in marketing as I worked. I shared how I promoted the sale online and why we chalked up the pavement. They followed along, but what I didn’t tell them was that my “branding” was inconsistent, and the odds of earning much were slim. After all, few people carry cash these days!

This is the poster I designed to explain the “DVDs by donation” concept.  I have to change the colour to black and white as the printer was low on ink!

A Teachable Moment

As we set up, some neighbours we know walked by with their dogs. The girls adore their jumpy, affectionate chihuahuas! This encounter sparked another teachable moment.

A while ago, I’d double-booked dog-sitting for these neighbours. Though we managed to look after their dogs between our house and theirs, I charged them a lower rate for the inconvenience. My daughters mentioned that the neighbours were planning to board their dogs at a kennel for their next trip. It was a good opportunity to explain the importance of service and how my mistake likely influenced their decision to go elsewhere.

In hindsight, I debated whether I should have charged them at all, given the inconvenience. It was a reminder of the delicate balance in business: valuing your time while maintaining strong customer relationships.

Lessons in Connection

By the end of the first day, we hadn’t received a single donation. I wasn’t surprised—DVDs are out of favour, and I wasn’t actively engaging with people. But I hoped the visibility would bring curious neighbors back on Day 2.

Ultimately, the real lesson wasn’t about sales; it was about the power of human connection.

Our neighbourhood has a strong sense of community. While DVDs are no longer in demand, I believe if we had stayed by the stall and connected with people, we might have had better results. The proof? Our next-door neighbor was the one person we interacted with directly, and he donated money and took a couple of DVDs.

It reminded me of Simon Sinek’s concept of Starting with Why. If people understood the why behind the donation—whether it was to support our kids’ chalk art or help declutter our home—they might have been more inclined to contribute.

Life Lessons for My Kids

Although the weekend only netted us $2.10, it was full of lessons for my daughters. They saw firsthand how effort, creativity, and connection play into business—even in small, everyday ways.

Could we try again next weekend with a stronger strategy? Sure. But I believe life teaches us through moments like these. My hope is that this experience becomes a core memory for my kids, helping them as they navigate their own paths in life.

Beyond the Festival: Cherishing Simple Family Moments

Last weekend, my family and I set out on what we thought would be a fun-filled day at the Sydney Dog Festival 2024.  As dog lovers without a furry friend of our own (yet!), we were excited to immerse ourselves in the world of canines.  After a drive that included a slight detour to the wrong hotel car park, we finally found our way to the festival.  But did it live up to our expectations?

As we walked through the gates, we were immediately met with a sea of sales and marketing stalls.  It felt more like a commercial expo than a celebration of dogs.  The queues for free samples stretched as far as the eye could see, and it quickly became clear that waiting in line could be the main activity of the day.

We had high hopes for the pat-a-pooch section, envisioning our kids delighting in meeting a variety of dog breeds up close.  However, the reality was much different.  The only way to interact with the dogs was by queuing up, and after just 10 minutes of being inside the festival, our kids were already voicing their disappointment.  "This is boring" and "I didn't expect it to be like this" were the recurring sentiments—a tough pill to swallow as a parent who just wants to create joyful memories for their children.

The dogs themselves, well, some loved the attention, some appeared to pant in stress and others quite frankly couldn’t care less, just lying down and having a nap.  The hoards of people made it hard to have a meaningful interaction.  And then there was the food—$25 for a burger and chips, for one person!  It felt like another reminder that the day was more about profit than fun.

But the weekend wasn’t a total loss. The best part, without a doubt, was our simple dinner at Oporto’s, sitting around a picnic bench in the middle of Olympic Park. The kids were thrilled with the bunk bed in our hotel room and watching out youngest child make a cup of tea by themselves created memories that will last far longer than the memory of the festival itself.  

It was a reminder that you don’t need a big event or a hefty price tag to experience family wholesomeness.  Sometimes, the simplest moments—like dinner on a picnic bench—are the ones that truly fill your heart.

So, did we need to go to the dog festival to experience that kind of connection? No, but it did serve as a reminder that the simple life often prevails.  And in the end, that’s what these weekends are really about—spending quality time together as a family, wherever you are.

Time = Full day

Cost = Dog Festival Tickets $80.20, Hotel $191, Money spent $175

Total $446.20

Feeling = 6/ 10

Rethinking Work: The True Value of Our Time

This week, a colleague retired after 13 years with the company I work for. I heard about the farewell speeches, the exchange of flowers, and the presentation of a modest leaving gift, I couldn’t help but think, "For what?" Thirteen years of dedication, countless hours spent, and what remains? A brief moment of recognition and then, the world moves on. That is the end of your working career. Finished. Done. The end.

It made me question the legacy we leave behind in our professional lives. What lasting impact does our work have? Will this colleague be remembered next week, or even the next day? The reality is, we spend a significant portion of our lives at work, often more time than we spend with our families or pursuing our own passions. But to what end?

For so many, the daily grind is just that—a grind. We exchange our time and energy for a paycheck, a title, and perhaps a sense of security. But is this enough? Are we truly fulfilled by the work we do, or are we simply following a path that society has laid out for us, without questioning where it leads?

Imagine, instead, a life where your work is more than just a job. A life where you wake up each day with a sense of purpose, knowing that what you do is meaningful to you and aligned with your passions. Imagine creating something of your own, a business or a venture that sets your heart on fire. Something that, at the end of the day, gives you more than just a paycheck—it gives you a legacy.

We have the ability to create this life. We are not bound by the constraints of a traditional job if it doesn't bring us joy or fulfillment. We can carve out our own paths, build our own businesses, and leave a legacy that we can be proud of. A legacy that isn't measured in years of service, but in the impact we've made, the lives we've touched, and the passion we've pursued.

It's not about rejecting the idea of work, but rather, reimagining it. It's about aligning our time, energy, and talents with something that resonates deeply with us. Because at the end of the day, the true value of our time isn't measured by how much we've worked, but by how we've spent it.

So, as we reflect on the time we dedicate to our jobs, let's ask ourselves: What are we truly working towards? And is it worth the most precious resource we have—our time?

Finding Peace in Nature: A Healing Walk Through Morton National Park

It’s been a traumatic couple of weeks.  When I say traumatic, I mean by our standards.  We try to live a simple life, so when something quite big happens it can feel traumatic.  Things come in Three’s they say…  It did for us.

1.      A rent increase of $60.  It doesn’t seem much but when your rent is only $540 a week, that’s an 11% increase and $60 per week that doesn’t go towards our savings or investments.

2.      Our youngest fell over and complained about their tooth hurting.  We didn’t think much of it until we woke up Monday morning and they had a massive swollen upper lip.  After a trip to the hospital and feeding them Clarantyne like biscuits, we woke up the next day to a swollen face.  A visit from the paramedics, a trip to the dentist and another to the hospital, we got that under control.

3.      Our development application (DA) after 11 months needed to be withdrawn due to some council bullshit ruling that modular homes cannot be built in the area which we brought land.  This is considering 3 modular homes have been built previously in the council area and this is a decision at the “council’s discretion.”

It was safe to say I needed some time to myself as my head was full.  The rent, ok, we cop it, not much we can do there.  Kids fall over and are highly unpredictable, so you roll with the punches.  The DA though…  11 months!  Couldn’t they have told us this when we submitted the DA?  This means renting longer and many options when it comes to the land, which I will share on another occasion.

By chance, my wife was taking the kids to see a friend, so I have almost all day to myself.  We live very close to the Morten National Park in the state of New South Wales, Australia.  It’s heaven on our doorstep.  I planned I would do a walk here and then go for an infrared sauna in the afternoon.  I called the sauna place to lock something in, but they didn’t pick up.  This was actually a blessing in disguise, because it meant my bushwalk now didn’t have a time pressure, and while it would’ve been nice to go for an infrared sauna, if I didn’t go, then that’s ok also.

I had planned to walk the whole loop of the national park, which considering I’ve only done a few of the shorter walks there, it was overly ambitious, so I reduced my expectations by setting out to do the Tooth’s lookout to Bundanoon Creek.  Anything else I could manage would be a bonus.  I set out at 8.27am from our home and walked to the entrance of the National Park in 25 minutes.  From there my goal was not to get lost.  I didn’t want to use my phone, so checked out a map at the visitor information board.  I wanted to walk the most direct route, which come the end of the car park, I could not see a track, so ended up walking the long way around.

Something that amazes me with this national park, you see so few people!  Seriously, what are people doing!?  For the whole of my time in the National Park (2 hours and 39 minutes) I saw 2 runners, 2 people walking in their RM William boots, jeans and puffer jackets, which I am completely judging here but I guess a couple from the city (city to people in the Southern Highlands can mean anywhere in the Sydney basin) who have walked a very short distance and that ticked off their ‘being in the country’ on the to do list, 2 other walkers who actually looked like they wanted to come for a proper walk and a group of 8 people of which one wore a Palm Beach Yacht Club hat (affluent area in Sydney.)  Jumping ahead here…  When leaving the national park, there were 4 cars parked outside the entrance, which while again, completely assuming, this to me links the cars to the 8 walkers with the Yacht club hat (2 people per car) which suggests that if they can afford to live in the Palm Beach area, then they can afford the National Park fee.  Well, news for you sunshine, the park isn’t currently charging a fee, so sucked in to you, you had to walk further to walk of last nights schnitzel and chips from the yacht club!

Moving on… As I found the start of the Tooth’s lookout to Bundanoon Creek the sign said, ‘not for the faint hearted, steep descent.’  Life can be hard sometimes, and absolutely not for the faint hearted, but I am determined. I currently don’t own a pair of walking boots.  I do most my exercise in trainers, which are not made for walking in the bush.  Especially steep descents.  Upon leaving my wife advised of grabbing a walking stick, which during the flat part of the walk I managed to acquire. 

Walks in nature are just something else.  The variety of wild growth that surrounds you.  (This is me trying to sound like David Attenborough, but clearly have no clue what surrounds me.)  The sounds of the breeze, the leaves rustling, birds calling.  It’s so relaxing.  Then comes the fork in the road. 

This is a great analogy of our current life situation (a fork in the road.) We moved to the Southern Highlands 12 months ago to escape the approaching masses in Camden, a town approximately an hour’s drive south west of Sydney. We had an amazing 10 year there. Bought our first house, got married and had children. It was time though for a change. The tree’s and nature were calling. We hoped to build a house, which now after 11 months has been thrown into disarray. We have many options ahead of us, but which is the right one? Time will tell.

A sign points back to the Tooth lookout, which was a great stop for a drink and a bush wee.  Another sign points in the opposite direction to the Fairy Bower waterfalls.  So where is the walk to the Bundanoon creek?  Amongst the junction there were signs of a path, but due to the winter, it appeared the bush was in the process of claiming back some land. Doesn’t this just highlight that sometimes the path you wish to take is not always clear?  Once I’d fought my way through the bush following the path, then came the decent and yes, it was steep, however don’t you love how nature guides you?  Fallen branches line the edges of the path.  Routes from tress stick out on the side of steep rocks, almost like a handle.  It is almost rude not to say thank you for their assistance.  Then I see it.  The creek!  I’d been focusing so much on where I was putting my feet and not to slipping, I then tuned into the noise of the flow of the water.  It was paradise! 

Like the true hunter/ gatherers we are I looked around for the perfect spot. On the left hand side, the water appears still, motionless, with no rush in the world to go anywhere fast.  Then comes a rock formation, which forms a little rapid, before dispatching the water out the right hand side into a beautiful flurry before slowing down its pace and making its way on throughout it’s journey.  I found my spot, under a tree to the right hand side.  The shimmer of the water is reflecting on the over hanging branches.  It’s just bliss.  I sit and while staring off down the creek, my mind takes over.  Thoughts flood into my mind from the last 2 weeks.  Tears come to my eyes.  Boredom then takes over giving me the urge to get up and move or do something.  I don’t listen to it.  I just sit.  And then after 10 minutes, like someone removing the plug from a sink, the stress built up in my body drains away.

30 minutes passes.  I feel lighter.  I’ve been considering going for a dip in the water.  Surely not!  It’s way too cold.  I climb back over the trees and rocks to other side where I can see the still water’s surface.  ‘Just go for paddle mate,’ my mind says to me.  I take off my shoes and socks and take the plunge.  Water covers my ankles, and it feels amazing, but it’s freaking freezing! 

I had started playing football again after 10 years, which didn’t go to plan.  After 2 friendly games I got tendonitis in my achilles, which after rest and rigorous daily stretching I made a come back for 3 league games before straining my quadricep.  That was my calling.  I don’t want to be cripple.  I want to enjoy life with a healthy body.  It was my bodies way of saying enough is enough and for someone who has suffered significant injuries for most of his playing career, it was hard for me to admit my time had come. 

During the descent down to the creek I could feel the stiffness in my ankles and the twinge of my achilles, but after just 10 seconds of standing in cold water, the pain seeped away.  I shuffled out the water for a moment and then shuffled back in for another 10 seconds.  The coldness was excruciating but on the other hand it was like an ice bath for my feet and ankles.  I retreated once again, taking back in the scenery and serenity.  It was a place of rejuvenation.  I felt my healing was done.  I popped back on my shoes and socks after wiping the wet sand from my feet, turned around and took in one last big deep breath, only to be disturbed by a big bloody plane flying overhead.

The climb back up required a bit more exertion.  I appreciated the bent over trees making an archway for my departure, like a sign saying ‘thank you for visiting and see you next time.’  I scaled the hardest part, but then lost the track. Sometimes in life we lose our way and that’s fine. It’s important however to use our intuition to guide us back on the right path.  I felt there were 3 different ways I could go.  I took the middle path which landed me in a big patch of this long yellow flower.  While my surrounding was quite a sight, I started to get unnerved from clearly losing the main path.  I generally have a good sense of direction and knew if I kept heading up and to the right, I’d soon hit a walking path, which I did.

As I retraced the path, passing the tooth lookout and Fairy Bower waterfall sign, (which I took the latter,) and the scenery suddenly changed.  It was framed by big moss-covered trees, a dirt leaf covered track ran through the middle and mossy rocks by its side.  It was like I was entering a fairy land.  After hearing a noise which I can only describe as a dog sniffing loudly I marched on through to the base of the Fairy Bower waterfall.  I have seen many waterfalls throughout Australia, especially in Tasmania and this one is up there with the best.

Nature is a natural healer.  After leaving the park (11.31am) and making the 25 minute walk home I felt I had been refreshed, reset and although I was physically tired, I was energised.  The feeling was euphoric.  Consider this… It’s a free activity and the best 3 hours and 29 minutes spent focusing on me. 

I wish to say thank you to National Parks NSW.  Thank you to the Gundagurra people upon this land we share. And thank you to my wife for letting me have the time to have this experience today.

Time = 3 hours and 29 minutes

Cost = While the park is currently free, we still pay the yearly $22 fee to access the Morten National Park, which we recently renewed.

Feeling = 10/ 10