Boomerang

One criteria for choosing a caravan, if not the principal one, is being able to fit inside it.

The lady who came to view the old family caravan last week had been attracted by the promise of a cheap one in which I had euphemistically and romantically alluded to on GumTree as being ' perfect to start an adventure'.

She was however, and in politically correct speak, of incompatible proportions to said leisure vehicle.

She had to shimmy a bit sideways on to get through the doorway and I had clear visions of her having problems, in practical terms of actually holidaying in it , such as scorching her bum on the cooker during the process of just turning around slightly to get a tin of beans out of the top-locker cupboard behind.

Tactfully she intimated through a well practiced glance at her husband that she had really been looking for something a bit larger. I gracefully accepted their frank and honest opinion whilst having wicked thoughts about what would really meet her size requirements. Bus, Barn, B&Q Warehouse.

Secretly, inside I felt angry at their complete dismissal of the caravan which, for the last 38 years, had accommodated our family with exemplary distinction.

We had served a camping apprenticeship under canvas for many years. I have nightmares to this day about the night of the storm on the cliff top at Arisaig on the west coast of Scotland (later a location for the Local Hero movie), when my father had to park the VW Estate on the tent in conjunction with beach scavenged boulders to prevent us from being whisked away in the gale force winds. That is up there with my fear of flying ants after they populated our campsite and had to be thoroughly whacked with badminton racquets after swarming onto the tent flysheets. The tipping point for Mother came when, again in Scotland, it refused to stop raining for about ten days of our fortnight away and she presented an ultimatum to our Father that we book a bed and breakfast immediately in order to dry out our saturated souls.

This, I believe, was the catalyst for the purchase by my father, in 1975, of the caravan. That and the prospect of picking it up at a canny price in a bankruptcy sale of the exotically named company, for Grimsby, of Boomerang.

I was 12 years old at the time and mightily impressed by the new acquisition.

At that time I was convinced that only rich families could afford the luxury of a house on wheels. We had arrived in the smart set with our affluence displayed by it being parked on the driveway.

It smelt of freshly cut wood and this evocative odour persists to this day and never fails to take me back in time.

The interior seemed huge to me then. A single compartment with seating and tables at each end and separated by the side-by-side gas hob and sink unit and a wardrobe-like cupboard. Above head height, at least for an average sized twelve year old boy, was a bank of deep storage lockers and these were allocated to us siblings for our toys, books and games that would accompany us on the annual two week summer holiday and other seasonal breaks, weather permitting.

Other nooks and crannies under the bench seats took the bulkier items such as bedding and clothes. In the daytime the interior was comfortable and I loved nothing more than to be wedged into the outer corner of the seat in the big plastic bubble type front window and watch the world go by. There were, of course, chores to be done to help in the smooth operation of the holiday. On arrival at a site we all manhandled the caravan into position. I liked to wind down the stabilisers underneath onto the blocks of wood. Water had to be fetched from the utility block. We had huge plastic containers for this and it was a 2-child job to fill and then drag back. Imagine our amazement at the sight of a posh elderly couple with a water drum attached to wheels which could be pulled along like a golf trolley. The water supply to the caravan sink was operated by a rubber foot pump and it took some effort to get the pressure up for the tap to run..

Mealtimes were a bit more hectic. The small gas burners were overstretched to cater for our large family of 5 children and two adults plus, on occasion, a small friend as a guest. Mother worked miracles with re-hydrated Smash Mash and tinned mince beef.

Preparing for bedtime was another performance. If the camp site had a toilet building we would march there for a wash amongst the daddy long legs and perfumed disinfectant blocks. If not, for example on a remote Scottish Loch side pitch or if the weather was bad  the whistling kettle had to come to the boil and the hot water rationed in the small stainless steel kitchen sink. It was a case of a lick and a promise with a flannel.

One end of the caravan, the childrens dormitory, went to bed first with the table top dropped to span the gap between the seats and padded out with the seat cushions. The bright orange flowery motif curtains, when closed, made everything really cosy. We had power from the battery in the car but only for a few hours and hazardous gas mantle wicks. These always had finger holes in them inspite of the known sanctions from poking them.

The eventual settling in of us children was followed by our parents going to bed at the other end. I think we must have all been asleep by about nine o'clock. I prayed for a night safe from gale force winds and that tickling feeling that meant waking everyone up to be escorted to the distant toilet block by torchlight for a wee-wee.

As we grew so the dimensions of the caravan shrank dramatically. We progressed to a large awning giving extra living space, two additional 2-man tents and a Punch and Judy style toilet tent. Our encampment did occupy quite a large area plus the inevitable space for the inevitable Swingball. It was an impressive site sight.

Our summer holidays were usually to Scotland or Northumberland. A few chilly half term breaks were to the Lake District but flooded or snowbound ground meant that the awning and tents could not be pitched. I slept at such times in the estate car with the back seats down.

The caravan enabled us to have great family holidays until we, the children, were ready to do our own thing.

Upon preparing it to be sold we came across many souvenirs and familiar things in the storage lockers. This included a long line of Jamboree and Scouting Bunting , stickers and cloth badges, numerous pens and pencils, National Trust scribble pads and attraction guide books. There were numerous oddments of games such as travel scrabble and chess and a vast supply of medical supplies such as insect repellent and sticking plasters.

Most interesting was about half a ton of materials made up of piles of pebbles, sea shells, strange shaped stones and a fine film of sandy deposits from beaches all around the British Coast. In retrospect their removal from the caravan may have significantly increased the fuel economy of the family car in towing the miniature geological collection for the last 38 years.