FROM MOTORCARAVAN TO MOTORHOME

The following article was first published in the MMM (Motorhome Motorcaravan Monthly), the UK's premier motorhome magazine. It describes the process by which a motorcaravan is turned into a motorhome.

Following early retirement, Margaret and I bought a motorcaravan, an expensive box on 6 wheels. After 20 months travelling in Europe, has it become a motorhome?

Over 2,000 years ago, Catullus wrote: 'O what is more blessed than to throw cares aside and, weary with the labour of far journeys, we return home and rest on the couch that we longed for?' We wanted to take the home (and the couch) with us, so that we need never return from the far journeys. But what would make a complex machine, a caravan bolted to a van chassis, into that home? We had never owned a caravan of any kind; our travelling had been by bicycle, train and plane, using a tent or cheap lodgings. We had a lot to learn (and more to buy) to make our motorcaravan into a motorhome.

We weren't helped by the titles of the four magazines: two of them were for 'motorcaravans' and one has only recently changed from 'motorcaravan' to 'motorhome'. That left us with the only magazine that claims to be for both: Motorcaravan Motorhome Monthly.

Motorcaravan dealers and estate agents use the same kind of language when extolling the virtues of a particular caravan/house: basement storage, spacious dinette, generously sized washroom, stable door, end bedroom, U-shaped lounge, all mod cons, superb lounge area, solid wood framing to the doors, end garage, well appointed, deceptively spacious, boasts central heating, sports a vanity unit, neatly presented, extended to the rear, ideal for first time buyer, ripe for improvement, suit DIY enthusiast. Next, they'll claim 'quietly situated' and 'panoramic views'.

As with buying a house, cost is the determining factor, with decisions about new or second-hand, architect-designed, mass-produced or build-your-own, size, cupboard space, how many bedrooms, kitchen fittings and so on. Space to add accessories is also important but you don't have the choice of semi-detached or terraced!

Our priority was not the 'motor' bit: the engine, steering, speed, acceleration and all that. In magazine reviews, it was strange to see the road test and engineering information, mixed in with the estate-agent description of the house. We are driving 12,000 miles a year, which is a long way for a motorcaravan, but that is only 30 miles a day, less than 1 hour a day, on average. For 23 hours a day, the house doesn't move. Mechanically, our main interest is that the handbrake works well!

Room by room, in order of what was important to us, here is what helped turn our caravan into our home:

The Bedroom: A permanent full-size double-bed was essential. Not that we stay in bed permanently, but we wanted a one-piece sprung mattress and somewhere to leave the electric blanket. We added a map-light as a bedside reading light, holders for mugs of cocoa, a small bookshelf, bedside rug, a connection for the radio's short-wave aerial and detectors for smoke, carbon monoxide and propane.

The Kitchen: One of us is a keen cook, so a 4-burner hob, grill and gas oven were in the ultimatum; the microwave was a welcome but not essential extra. The largest possible fridge and freezer were also demanded, as well as plenty of space to keep pots, pans, utensils and ingredients. We added items as various as a food processor, pressure cooker, spice rack, knife rack, wall-mounted tin-opener, camp-a-toaster, weighing scales, fire blanket, fire extinguisher and a timer. Delia Smith came with us; more recently Dr Nial Reynolds joined her.

The Living/Dining Room: To make this more homely, we added cushions, an extra carpet, warm curtains (over the blinds), a clock, some pictures and ornaments and a candlestick (candlelight is very homely). This is also where Paddington lives: he's been with us ever since he refused to stay in a Romanian orphanage. The marmot lurks in the cab, looking out of the window hoping to see her snow-capped Alps again. The Welsh snail keeps her company, except when he is hiding from French Camping Caristes.

The Bathroom: Buddha looks down on us as we shower, but, more functionally, we fitted a toilet brush holder, electric toothbrush, razor-charging point, matching wooden set to hold the toilet roll, soap dish, toothmug and towels, and an original oil painting.

The Attic: The 2 essential Fiamma roof boxes hold bike spares, oils and greases, paint, cleaning materials, bucket, glue, mastic, fibreglass kit, engine spares, etc. One day, we'll find an old Rembrandt up there.

The Basement: A floor high enough to give some storage underneath is a real bonus. Our basement is used for boots, step ladder, clothes prop, electrical cables, jack, tow rope, jump leads, hosepipe, socket set, toilet fluid, door mat, windscreen and bike covers.

What don't we have? We don't have a telephone, a letter box, door-to-door traders, a garden or neighbours we can't move away from, and that itself is a great bonus! We don't have our own cat, but the campsite cat always seems to know that we still carry cat biscuits.

But, of course, home is where the heart is. There has to be room for love and laughter, for hobbies and pastimes, for friends and fellow-travellers. To make a house into a home, you have to live in it. It has to feel like home. And now it does: we feel at home on the road.