Travels with Daisy Bee

Wales

Fifteen years after first buying her, Daisy Bee, my 1963 VW camper, is looking as good as new. At forty seven-years-young she has been a game old gal and well deserved the two year restoration she underwent. This is her first holiday.

On the way to Wales I take the twisty roads from Pateley Bridge, through Skipton and down towards Preston. She drives like a dream. Then on to the motorway and cruising at sixty miles per hour. I can hardly believe how well she is running. The oil warning light indicates low oil and, although topped up yesterday, the borrowed engine (hers is in pieces being repaired) has leaked enough for the level to only show at the bottom of the dip stick. After adding a litre of oil she is happy again.

She’s a beauty.

It is Wales and it is raining, but at the campsite the rain stops, and a blue sky followed by a beautiful August sunset end the first day of my holiday. I am here with my sister, her husband, and their three young children.

Today is spent on train rides – diesel trains and narrow gauge steam locomotives. The carriage we are in on the narrow gauge railway from Tywyn (pronounced Towyn) was built in 1867 and I read aloud the sign about it stuck to the carriage wall above the seats.

‘Is that in the olden days?’ asks Will, turning to me from his gaze out of the window.
‘Yes,’ I reply, ‘it is. It’s one hundred and forty three years ago.’
‘Is that a very long time ago?’
‘Yes. How old are you?’
‘I’m five.’ Will looks back to the window, thinking. ‘So it’s older than me.’
‘And it’s older then grandma and granddad, and older than great grandma.’

There is another pause as Will takes this in before he turns to me.

‘Is it older than your camper van, Auntie Anna?’
‘Yes,’ I smile, ‘it is.’
‘Mmmm.’ Will returns to looking out of the window, satisfied.

The next day Will is playing in the van at the campsite. It has become a magic van that can travel anywhere in the world.

'Where are you going?’ I ask him, dwarfed in the driver’s seat by the large bus steering wheel.
‘France,’ he replies ‘then Australia and New Zealand. We can go anywhere in this bus.’
‘How about Nepal?’ I ask.
‘Yes! Nepal. Shall I show you where it is Rachel?’ and Will turns to his three-year-old sister with a globe of the world in his hand. ‘Nepal is here,’ he points,‘the pink country in between India and China.’ He looks at me, ‘It’s very small, isn’t it Auntie Anna?’
‘Yes, it is.’