A revelation in Stratford

I doubt if many people know the precise length of their drive but, in the summer of 2021, this became a preoccupation for me. Neighbours must have assumed I was planning to have the space in front of my house block-paved or re-tarmacked but, in fact, the reason I was busy with my tape-measure was to check if a campervan would fit. Calling it a drive is an exaggeration. It’s more of a parking space, big enough to fit two small cars side by side or, as is usually the case, a larger one on its own. I knew that a full-size campervan would be too long and would jut out into the pavement and, although plenty of people don’t seem to worry about their vehicles sticking out beyond the boundaries of their properties, I didn’t want to be too obtrusive.

What I had in mind was a motorhome that could double as a run-around car so that I wouldn’t need to own two vehicles, and the thing I had in mind was the type of compact camper called a Romahome. A Romahome is based on a small Citroen van and I thought this might serve as a practical day-to-day car as well as a campervan when needed.

I visited AEG Motorhomes in Stourbridge to take a closer look at a Romahome. That familiar smell and feel of a caravan instantly reminded me of childhood holidays and the comfortable interior had everything I could need, including the proverbial kitchen sink. But there were a couple of things to consider. Although it had plenty of seating in the back, because of the lack of seatbelts it wouldn’t be practical to take more than one passenger (not ideal for transporting little grandchildren.) Second, the length of the ‘living area’ ­- with the sink and cooker extending beyond the sleeping area - means that a Romahome is longer than an average car. In fact, most Romahomes are almost 5m long (too long for my drive.) The only type that would fit at the front of my house is, I learnt, the Romahome Rio at only 3.75m, but these don't come up for sale very often and there would still be the problem of a lack of passenger seats.

I was beginning to have second thoughts about a Romahome.

Then, in September 2021 I learnt that there was to be an International Campervan ‘Late Summer’ Show at the racecourse in Stratford-upon-Avon. I booked a ticket in the vague hope that it might give me some ideas or, at the very least, help me to come to terms with the fact that the dream of owning a campervan was not to be.

As I wandered round Stratford Racecourse I was greeted by a dazzling array of motorhomes – from the medium-sized to the enormous. While many of the punters seemed to be most interested in the impressively large vehicles I was the opposite, scouting around to see if anyone had anything even smaller than a Romahome. And then I spotted it - a Fiat Doblo Freedom that was obviously not just a car or a van but a very compact campervan. I discreetly took a photo of it and looked for clues as to where these exotic creatures might originate from. A closer examination of a similarly-appointed Citroen Berlingo revealed a windscreen sticker that referred to a company called Micro Campers UK. So, that was what they were called – microcampers. Whether my ideal vehicle would be based on a Peugeot Partner, a Fiat Doblo or a Citroen Berlingo I wasn’t yet sure. But at least I now knew the kind of vehicle I needed. What would fit on my drive and still be suitable for picking up my grandchildren from school was not a Romahome at all, but a thing called a microcamper...

Coming soon: Dulcimers explained, Malcolm Saville and spying, a meeting with an Italian saviour in the Cotswolds, and what exactly is a micro-adventure?     

Where it all began

If you're not sure what a dulcimer is, don't worry. I'll explain all that later. And I'll explain why I decided to call this blog 'Travels With My Dulcimer' rather than 'Travels In My Micro-camper' or, as I considered at one point, 'Micro-adventures With My Dulcimer.' And if you don't know what a micro-camper is - or a micro-adventure for that matter - I'll come to that too, in time.  But we're getting ahead of ourselves. 

The story really begins around the time of my sixtieth birthday when I began to tell friends and family that I was thinking of getting a campervan. I was too old for another midlife crisis so they just thought I had become slightly unhinged and began, gently, to pose questions: 

"Where are you going to keep it? You've got a very small drive and there wouldn't be room for a campervan alongside your car." 

"Would you get rid of the car and just have a campervan? It wouldn't be very economical popping to the supermarket in a campervan." 

"What about the grandchildren? Would the campervan have enough seatbelts?" 

"How much would you actually use it, considering they're quite expensive?" … and so on. 

But, if my solicitous friends and family thought this was a new idea that had just popped into my deranged newly-sexagenarian brain, they obviously don't know me well enough. No. In fact, I've been thinking about getting a campervan for over fifty years. You'll gather from this, I'm not one to rush into things. I may have put the idea on hold since reaching adulthood, but it never went away and it all began when I was nine or ten years old...

Around the time that I stopped playing with my toy soldiers and toy cars (including the two prized Matchbox campervans pictured,) I began to read voraciously, and to write (and sometimes illustrate) little stories. Whenever Mr Simcox asked the class to quietly get on with writing a story, I needed no encouragement and would enthusiastically continue writing another adventure in which my lead character would invariably be off travelling in a campervan. This protagonist might well have been a secret agent, like the heroes of my favourite TV programmes The Man from UNCLE, The Saint and The Champions. But, if he was a spy, he was also an author, going off in his campervan with his dog (a golden Labrador) and a portable typewriter. And when the character - who was probably called something like Adam Denton or Simon Fenton or possibly Roger Sterling - would park up in a layby, after taking his dog for a walk, he would settle at the compact table in his campervan with a mug of tea to hammer out a chapter of his latest novel on his typewriter because Adam, or Simon, or Roger, was a famous novelist and he liked to travel round researching locations for his books. He liked to set his stories in real locations, just like my favourite writer at the time, Malcolm Saville, who wrote exciting adventures for children of my age set in Shropshire and Sussex. 

I had it in my head that Malcolm Saville had the perfect life - travelling in the summer, scouting out locations for his books and then, when summer was over, he could snuggle down in his warm study and write books through the cold days until the spring arrived when he'd set off again on his travels. I've since learnt that Malcolm Saville (despite the popularity of his books) held down a day job throughout his writing career. He encouraged his readers to write to him, so I did and told him I wanted to be an author. He kindly wrote back and wished me luck but strongly advised me to get a proper job. 

Around this time, my dad had a job at a garage and occasionally brought home old brochures advertising motorhomes. I began to write off for up-to-date brochures showing all the very latest luxury motorhomes - or Dormobiles as they were often called in those days - (vehicles like the Martin Walter Ford Transit, which is the model for the bluish-silver one shown next to the VW camper in the picture above.) Every now and then, I'd receive a new brochure in the post, as if I was an affluent adult who was seriously contemplating buying one, rather than an impoverished ten-year-old fantasising about being a free-wheeling author (and possibly secret agent.) 

As I grew a little older, I got interested in pop music, got my first guitar and began writing my first songs. The Malcolm Saville books were replaced by more grown-up reading, but I never completely gave up on the idea of being a writer (although I now also wanted to be a pop star or, at least, a singer-songwriter, like my new hero, Cat Stevens.)      

At some point I must have forgotten about the campervan idea and, after doing a degree in English and French, I followed Malcolm Saville's advice and got myself a proper job. I began a career working in mental health which (satisfying as it was) distracted me, for more than three decades, from my early ambition to be a full-time writer and musician. Throughout that time, though, I led a parallel life, continuing to write books, articles, short stories and songs, until I eventually retired to become what I think I'd always been - a writer and musician. And it was then that the thought of that campervan began to creep back up on me...

Coming soon: Dulcimers and micro-campers explained; Malcolm Saville and spying, and what exactly is a micro-adventure?