Camper Vans

I've realised that I want to go on a long journey in a camper van - immediately. There's one called Claude, an old 50s sky blue Comma van, waiting patiently in a barn in Herefordshire for just that purpose. I've chickened out so far as Claude has a reputation for breaking down on precipices in the Dolomites and for being quite badly behaved - usually miles from civilisation. But the allure of the open road and Claude’s sweet little wooden interior are suddenly proving quite irresistible.

I don’t know whether it’s because I’ve just seen the film Little Miss Sunshine (I urge you to see it if you haven’t already), but I am suddenly conscious of how important road movies are in my life - in my imaginary life anyway.

If I were to probe the reality of going on a journey in Claude, I think I would be rather nervous. The imaginary me loves sleeping rough and waking up with dew on my eyelashes, washing in brooks and wearing home-knitted jumpers and big boots with no heels.

The real me is thinking of the time when my sister and I shared a tent in America when we were teenagers and had a little misunderstanding with three thousand or so local mosquitoes. Or the time when I had a holiday job in a bed and breakfast in Cornwall and poached two hundred eggs every day at dawn in exchange for sleeping in a tent in the owners’ garden, shared with a hungry horse with a penchant for canvas. The only way to escape after 7 nights of being constantly nibbled by a sharp set of equine teeth was to slice a small chunk of flesh between my thumb and first finger with a very sharp knife while washing up (try it, it’s very theatrical) and wait for the subsequent, but pretty immediate, horror, sympathy and leaving present. I was very pleased to say farewell to that tent and to hitch hike all the way back to London without saying goodbye to the insatiable nag. I still have a sliver of a scar on my hand to remind me of the halcyon days of my youth.

Back to today, I’ve just been to see what’s going to be auctioned tomorrow at the local Chattels Market. It’s wonderful there. You can bid on all sorts of fabulous house clearance items to the sound of hundreds of cows mooing away in a very echo-y barn next door. There was a camper van parked there which triggered the whole camper van thing today. This one had little curtains and more than a little rustic allure.

My last bargain at the Chattels was an antique Japanese parasol and a huge box of church candles (£5 the lot). It was huge fun bidding. The auctioneer is very kind with me. He remembers when I missed out on a huge box of Second World War ammunition. He seemed to sympathise at the time and made a few jokes about it and has been very nice ever since.

Going back to food, I think I would like to attempt to roast marshmallows over an open fire in my road movie. I’m assuming that you just thread them on a long silver skewer and put it in the fire. Is that correct…?