Everything looks better from a campervan.

Viewed from a campervan, the world looks different; slower, less pressured… happier. Much the same as it does from a hilltop village in Italy, or when pottering in a kitchen preparing a meal, or around the table with friends or family enjoying good food and drink. That’s what this little blog is all about really – the things I enjoy: food, photography, Italy and our 1972 VW campervan. Maybe, just maybe, one of these days I’ll get to put them all together and do the grand tour.

The campervan? Pure chance. Out of the blue. We’d never camped before (well, apart from that time in Derbyshire when we were teenagers, and we needn’t go into that.) We’d owned old cars in the days when we couldn’t afford any other, in the days when car names were romantically heroic, infused with a spirit of adventure: Triumph Herald. Hillman Husky. Riley Kestrel. Mostly the adventure was whether or not we would reach our destination. Then we progressed to a Triumph Spitfire, and the wind in our hair. (In those days I still had hair.) With the soft top down you could hardly hear the knocks from the prop shaft at all.

Then one evening in 2008 we emerged from a friend’s party and there, parked right outside, was a VW camper. We didn’t know it at the time, but it was a Type 2 bay. Cream over pale blue paintwork that gleamed in the evening light. Gleamed so brightly that it ignited a little spark in our heads. We talked about it for the rest of the evening. And when we woke up next morning, we were still talking about it. We were smitten.

A week later, still enthused, if anything more so, we set to doing something about it. We looked on eBay, and found a surprising number of campers for sale. We bought Volksworld and VW Camper magazines. We searched the internet, found as many websites as we could. The deeper we dug, the more we discovered, and the stronger the pull. We started to understand the difference between a T2 and a T4. Between a split and a bay; early bay and late bay. Began to get a feel for the huge price differences between a good camper and a bucket. Learned what to look for and what to avoid.

Then, in a spontaneous moment of immense trust bordering on madness, we bought our near-pristine van from a guy in Rugby with a passion for ‘dubs and a twinkle in his eye. By the time we were home he was christened Chalky (the van, not the chap with the twinkle), after his pastel white paintwork. And was part of the family. Now we can’t imagine life without this hunk of metal and formica and wood. If you have ever passed a campervan (they don’t often pass you) and thought ‘wouldn’t that be good, one day I’d like one of those?’, then my advice is to get one; don’t wait, get one soon and get the best you can afford. You won’t regret it, I promise you. I don’t mean you’re guaranteed trouble free motoring: we’ve broken down a couple of times and have had to cough up for a new (well, reconditioned) engine.

But a campervan will slow you down and change your life. For the better.