Pipped at the post?

We decided to go for a second viewing. However, we had competition. It appeared that a couple of young lads were interested in it and had also arranged a second viewing - but they had a mechanic in tow. If that didn't result in a sale then we were welcome to go and see it again. Now it seemed as if we were in a no-win situation; if we were to have a chance of buying the camper van it would be as a direct result of a mechanic advising somebody else not to touch it with a bargepole. Game over. Then my suspicious and cynical side kicked in (it's never far from the surface at the best of times). I began to doubt if these other potential buyers even existed. Either way though, we thought that was it. We'll never know for sure, but mysteriously the other buyers faded into the background with mutterings of not being able to afford the insurance. Maybe the mechanic really did warn them off but by this point we were following our hearts rather than our heads, excited to get a second chance. Off we set for visit number two, and this time we weren't going to laugh at it.

A change of heart

Despite our misgivings, we began to get carried away with the whole idea of owning a camper van. The idyllic scenarios were building in our minds...drinking wine under the awning watching the setting sun, making a warming drink after an afternoon bodyboarding, pootling along country lanes towards beautiful empty campsites. And of course, doing the whole festival scene in our uber-trendy vintage/ retro 70s styled campervan. We spent a few days egging each other on whilst testing out reactions from friends and family. 'Go for it' seemed to be the most common response although we quickly got used to the complete bewilderment and hysterical laughter that also accompanied the positivity. Indeed, there was something about the laughter that strengthened our desire for the ridiculed brown van. An air of protectiveness grew around it; the idea that we could rescue it and make it loved again was appealing. And if that meant people would laugh at us then so be it...we could handle it!

Love at first sight?

A week later and we set off to view the old, brown camper van. Expectations were not high; it was viewed more as a mission to get it out of our system, rule it out and move on. The viewing didn't get off to the best of starts when we arrived to be met by a huge pair of locked iron gates and nobody in sight. A phone call cleared that up and we climbed out of our modern, safe, middle-of-the-road car to see a vision in browny-beige trundling towards us. It perhaps wasn't particularly good manners to laugh as the vendor jumped out to greet us, but the sight of the clunky brown van rattling noisily in our direction had amused us! We were left to look around and on closer inspection I think it's fair to say we were both somewhat underwhelmed. My two observations were that it smelt and it was wobbly. In fact, our final discussions with the vendor were entirely focussed on getting accurate directions to a recommended pub for lunch. At the last minute something prompted me to jump back in to the camper van to take a few photos. Pointless really because we weren't going to buy it, were we?

The beginning

It all started  with a mini mid-life-crisis over the annual question of what to do in the summer. As much as I love spending a week in a cosy cottage with bracing walks, tea shops and country pubs round every corner, I wanted to do something that made me feel less...well....old. So, what better way to recapture that youthful feeling than to go to a music festival? Especially as the whole music festival scene had passed me by in my actual youth. Further research led me to The Electric Picnic in Ireland which seemd to tick all the right boxes (bands I'd heard of, comedy and food). Now I may want to feel young again but I'm not stupid...there was no way I was prepared to totally rough it in a tent in the middle of a muddy field. However, posh camping, glamping, yurts, eco pods and tipis began to catch my attention. I was getting pretty enthusiastic about staying in a beautifully named 'cloudhouse', until I discovered a tiny picture of one hidden in the corner of a website which could not disguise the fact that it was in reality a very basic tent with a hole in the roof. My temporary enthusiasm waned further when I began to look at the prices of the various 'glamping' options. At least £100 a night appeared to be the going rate. Undaunted, I began to investigate the idea of hiring a camper van. Before long I was seduced by gleaming vans, vintage interiors and quirky names. However, it quickly became apparent that if we wanted to hire a van for a week (the minimum rental period in high season) then we would be saying goodbye to at least £800. 

Resigned to feeling old again (but comfortable and with some money left) the ever practical, solution-seeking Tom passed me the laptop with the soon-to-be immortal words 'Shall we buy this?' There before my eyes was an old, brown camper van. Weirdly, I didn't do my usual thing of ignoring him or asking him what on earth he was thinking. It kind of appealed...