Day 33

Remember when the VW Camper Van was all the rage?
No not that time, the other time.
No not that time either, later.
Later.
More recent.
...
There you go.

That most recent spate of mass van idolisation represented less about the freedom and good-time-loving that was once synonymous with the vehicle, and more about how much money you could make by selling pictures of them on cheap, nasty, box canvases. Head to any quirky art store or gallery a few summers ago and you couldn't move for giant representations of the metallic bug-eyed wonder, disastrously exaggerated by a fish-eye lens. You couldn’t buy an actual VW Camper Van – that would be ludicrous – so instead you’d have to settle for a postcard montage or a money box that would instantly transform your lounge into a free-spirited beach luau, hideously juxtaposed with an episode of EastEnders playing in the corner where everyone is killing each other with bottle openers.

Furthermore, you couldn’t even watch a cider or music festival commercial without being told to jump into your VW Camper Van complete with surfboards (you can’t surf) and Hibiscus themed custom paintjob (you couldn’t care less about flowers) and shove off into the sunset.

Well I wasn’t going for it. I’ve never succumb to a marketing driven fad and never will.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m waiting for the sunshine to reappear so that I can shove off into it.