Don't live in a camper van if you can't drive
Let me take you back to being a recent graduate in the 1980s. 2 grand overdrawn, bank account frozen and having spent the housing benefit on uproarious living (beer and chips) I am in shtuck with landlord, but have a job and first pay packet should unlock life's riches once again. Mate suggests I stay in his VW camper for a while, which he generously parks outside my rented property. I hide in it with the lovely floral curtains closed as landlord ransacks empty house screaming for his money. I continue to hide every other day for about a week until he twigs that the snoring coming from the camper each evening may be in someway connected to me and starts hammering on the windscreen. Only at this point do I realise that if I had wanted to move said van, taking a course of driving lessons in the 6 weeks leading up to my cunning scheme might have been a wise move. Taking the hand brake off and rolling forwards four feet before inertia brings me to a halt isn't exactly the getaway required. Cue the first of three periods of my life in which I have slept in the office. And explained away facial bruising with casual leisure-pursuit related lying.
(dunlintemminck after 40 years it's come to this?, Tue 28 Nov 2006, 22:29, Reply)