Size Isn’t Everything. What a Title for a Former Porn Star!

No, of course, I’m not a former porn star! I just happened to have a rather splendid moustache at one time and this caused some dubious elements to speculate on my former mode of employment.

A more personal post than usual. Decisions that will have a drastic effect on our life have been made in the past few days. Here’s the potted version.

When we were staying near Calpe on the Costa Blanca recently, free-camping on an unpaved road alongside the beach and about 30 metres from the Mediterranean, we weren’t the only ones there. There were four other vans already in situ when we pulled up. We usually stay where there are others around, for security, but we’ve spent the occasional night seemingly miles from anyone else where the setting is sufficiently spectacular.

Our new neighbours were a mixed bunch. Two German couples in the inevitable  vans, a Dutchman in what appeared to be a converted furniture van and a van with GB plates. As usual, our van was smaller by far than any of the others, but the Brits were in one of the biggest vehicles I’ve ever seen. An American RV, it was like a single-decker bus, but bigger.

Within two days we were all on speaking terms, but the Brits were a surprise when we eventually got to meet them. Alan and Angela were the same couple we’d last seen in Eastern Europe – I think it was in Poland, but none of us were certain – and they were then in an ‘ordinary’ van. We’d spent many days and nights in each other’s company and we think of them as good friends.

‘Took the plunge and decided to get a big boy,’ Alan said and invited us to invite the new ‘bus.’ Our own van has a rear sofa that converts to a double bed, a small sink, hob, grill, microwave and tiny fridge. It’s enough. No shower or anything like that. We use a solar shower – basically a fancy bin liner that you fill with water and hang on the outside of the van in the sunshine to warm– or use beach showers. If no other option presents itself, we wander into a camp site on foot and have a shower there. Same goes for doing our washing.

Alan’s new beast was another world. Twin – extend the living space to that of a medium-sized bungalow. The armchairs and sofas were massive, all white leather, the kitchen was better equipped than most houses and the bed was superking size. Three televisions, a thumping stereo system and all the fancy gadgets you could imagine. We walked round – I had to have a rest partway round – and eventually reached the bathroom.

Gulp! All the usual facilities were there, but supersized. A shower big enough for three consenting adults to lather in and a bath. Yes, a bath. Not any ordinary bath, but a corner spa bath with gold taps. We admired the two generators, solar panels, banks of batteries, but by now we were in shock. That bathroom had tipped us over the edge.

‘Lovely,’ we said. ‘Fantastic,’ we said. We ran out of superlatives eventually. Back in our own van – think of a mouse sitting alongside an elephant – we were eager to discuss what we’d seen, well out of our neighbours’ earshot.

‘Ridiculous,’ was the shortened version. Too big, impossible to park, expensive to run, ludicrously expensive to buy and totally unsuited to European roads. You get the gist.

The next day, Alan was at our door at first light. I was up and about, just about, and popped out to see what he wanted. ‘The wife’s sister’s had a bit of a turn,’ he said. ‘Angela’s all of a dither and wants to fly back to see her. Take us days in the van and cost more than it will to fly.’

I nodded.

‘If it’s no trouble, would you look after the van for us? Keep your eye on it? Back in three days so won’t keep you any longer than we have to.’

‘Of course, mate. No problem.’

‘Stay in it, if you like. Watch some telly, put your feet up for a few days. Treat it like your own.’

An hour later, they’d gone. Driven off to the airport in the Smart car. Oh yes, forgot to mention they towed a car behind, making the thing longer than most Intercity trains! We walked around the beast, adding yet more disparaging remarks at every step – a lot of steps – and eventually opened the doors. Ten minutes later, I was watching Sky Sports on the biggest of the three flat-screens and my wife was wallowing in the corner bath!

Yes, a van that size is ridiculous, but once it’s found a resting place, it’s just like living in a top hotel. Food for thought.

Our plan, in as far as we ever plan anything, for this trip was to drive across France, Spain and Morocco, heading for the Sahara. We were at Tarifa, only eight miles across the sea from the Northern tip of Africa, when the email arrived. Two family members with serious health concerns. ‘So glad we caught you before you disappeared for months. Such a relief to be able to talk things over.’

‘Serious concerns’ is a broad spectrum. Nothing we can physically do; certainly not until test results are known, but there’s a clear desire, on both sides, to keep in touch. So, that’s the Sahara trip on hold as we could easily be ‘off the grid’ for many weeks once we were there. Grim faces all round, both at late changes to our plans and the obvious concerns about those far away.

Two days later and the smiles are back. We’re wandering around the Iberian Peninsula, at random; keeping in touch with ‘home’ and enjoying the sunshine. The Sahara can wait. It’s not going anywhere!

This setback has prompted a rethink of the way we live. Three months or so in Eastern Europe a few months back and now this open-ended trip have allowed time to decide what works and what doesn’t as regards our trusty van. Basically, it’s fine for a month or two, but has its limitations on longer trips.

An American RV with a corner bath and twenty televisions? Not a chance! We want a slightly larger van, but still need to wander down narrow roads, visit  mountain villages, park in a normal parking space. Another panel van conversion then, but large enough to add a proper toilet, shower and a permanent bed so we can just flop into bed at the end of a hard day’s hedonism! Well, you never know.

See, the plans have changed. We love being on the road and have been away for months on end before. What we’re now intending is to do it fulltime. 365 days a year, just travelling around. No safety net. Just go for it.

A different view from our front door whenever we want one. New horizons, exploring new areas, different cultures, meeting fresh faces every day. We’re gregarious people, like making new friends, like different challenges and, crucially, are happiest when there’s just the two of us. Living with someone 24/7 takes tolerance and wouldn’t suit everyone, but it’s easily our preferred system.

Decision made. Back to the UK in a few months – no rush – to find our perfect van. A few more possessions to dispose of and we’ll be downsized to the lowest possible level. We’ll take what we need and nothing else.

You know those questions like ‘what would you save if your house was on fire?’

My answer would be ‘as long as we both get out unscathed: nothing.’