In the world of campervan living, silence isn’t just golden, it’s often the only thing keeping everyone sane. When you’re sharing a small space with another human (or three), you quickly learn that not every moment needs narration. Sometimes the kettle boils, the rain taps gently on the roof, and no one says a word. Bliss.

But shared silence has its own etiquette. There’s the “I’m thinking” silence, the “I’m decompressing” silence, and the sacred “I just woke up and haven’t emotionally re-entered the world yet” silence. Each one deserves respect, not interruption. Especially not with questions like “What’s the plan for today?” before someone’s had their ceremonial first sip of tea.

Campervan silence is also where the magic happens. It’s where grief gets to stretch out without explanation. Where joy bubbles up quietly. Where two people sit side by side, staring at a misty field, and feel more connected than any conversation could achieve.

Of course, there are risks. Break the silence too soon, and you risk emotional whiplash. Wait too long, and someone might think you’re upset because they moved the oat milk. It’s a delicate dance, but one worth learning.

So next time you’re in a campervan and the silence settles in like a soft blanket, don’t rush to fill it. Honour it. Share it. Let it do its quiet work.

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