As any parent of young children knows, making a clean escape from the sticky clutches of a pre-schooler - without fromage frais or poster paint drizzled across your lapels - requires cunning and diversionary tactics.
Fathers slip into their jackets only in the safety of the front porch; mothers, teetering in unfamiliar party heels, shriek as their wailing infants sidestep the babysitter to chase them to the door. So, last weekend, when my wife and I were invited to a grand 40th birthday party in a fudge-and-flowers village in the heart of the Cotswolds, we decided to enlist the help of a two-berth Volkswagen T5 camper van.
Having done a DOG (Dumped on Granny) with the children, we made the most of the T5's 2.5 turbo diesel to blast up the Fosse Way, before crunching across the gravel of our friends' driveway. Having parked up, we pulled the curtains, had a wash in the dinky sink and then a cup of tea heated on the van's miniature two-ring hob. Then, childfree, we slipped into our party gear, pulled open the sliding door and arrived at our host's front door without a smear of jam/yogurt/modelling clay between us. Six hours later, we staggered back down the path, pulled out the T5's double bed and settled down for the night... Forget the great outdoors - the joy of the combie van is as a mobile hotel room ideal for Glastonbury, Glyndbourne, Gatwick... In the words of Volkswagen Camper, 'Home is where you park it.'
The history of the camper van goes back to the end of the Second World War, when the British found themselves running the VW factory in Wolfsberg in Germany (which, incidentally, has just produced the 100-millionth Volkswagen - and the model they chose for this landmark? A Touran). To ferry parts across the massive area, stripped-down Beetles were turned into little transporters. This gave Ben Pon, a Dutch VW importer, an idea, and in 1947 he created the Beetle bus. Two short years later it was launched at the Geneva Motor Show.
The Americans were the first to really recognise the van's home-from-home possibilities and, as they say, a legend was born. That first-generation camper of the Fifties and Sixties is known as the T1. We're now up to the T5. Converted by coachbuilders Bilbo's, the Celex T5 costs £29,000 to buy, but the same model can also be hired for about £300 a week. It would be a lie, however, to say that any of the charm and charisma of the original split-screen VW bus has been maintained. The iconic camper of our youth has been turned into a retirement home on wheels, complete with carpet and reading lights.
Surfers on their way to Cornwall wouldn't be seen dead in a T5, but say you're touring the sherry bodegas of Andalucia, or the golf courses of Ireland, or maybe escaping the kids in the Cotswolds, then this one's for you.
· www.bilbos.com; www.motorhomeinfo.co.uk
