Vanilla Dreams, A man, A van, A mission

Chapter 1:

The Birth of Vanilla – Rotherham’s Greatest Export Since ChuckleVision

Every legend has an origin story. Batman had his alleyway. Churchill had his cigar. I had a VW T6.1 campervan, custom-fitted in Consett. But before Vanilla became the envy of service stations and the poster girl of camper festivals, she was just a van. A cube of promise. Like a raw potato—waiting to become crisps.

In April 2024, I stood in Leighton Vans, Rotherham, staring at a lifeless commercial shell. No bed. No kettle. No vibe. But I saw potential. I saw Vanilla.

Converted in Consett by Rock n Roll Campers, Vanilla emerged with a fridge, Webasto heater, microwave, mattress topper, pop-top roof, and more gadgetry than the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. She wasn’t just born. She debuted.

Chapter 2:

The Interior – A Symphony in MDF and Microwave

Inside Vanilla, I live like a warm, smug king. There’s a 2-ring gas hob, a microwave that’s hosted everything from pasties to late-night jacket potatoes, and a fridge that hums like a zen monk.

The Duvalay topper transforms the rock ‘n’ roll bed into a sleep sanctuary. The Porta Potti stands proud—ready for action but used only in DEFCON emergencies. Swivelling front seats become loungers, and the Sonos Roam supplies the soundtrack, from 80s synth to the gentle clink of beer bottles.

And then there’s the projector—my Nebula Capsule 3 Laser beaming classics onto a 50” screen in the pop-top. It’s like Cineworld. But with more cushions and fewer teenagers.

Chapter 3:

Festival Fever – From CamperJam to Dubbed Out (And a Bit of B.O.)

CamperJam. Dubbed Out. The Glastonbury and Reading of the van world—just swap the bands for bacon, and the glamour for gazebos.

At CamperJam, Vanilla sat regally among a sea of Volkswagens. The vibe? Cargo shorts, glitter, reggae remixes, and mild sunstroke. At Dubbed Out, things got funkier. There was a guy with a hot tub in a horse trailer, and someone tried to sell me vegan jerky made from lentils and mystery.

I pitched the Vango Faro Air III awning with surgical precision. Inside? Mood lighting, cider disguised in a Lucozade bottle, and an air of weathered cool. Campers nodded in approval. That’s all I needed.

Chapter 4:

The Road Kitchen – Cooking with Cadac, Crunching with Kettle Chips

Cadac Safari Chef 2. The culinary centrepiece of Vanilla. It’s not just a BBQ. It’s a lifestyle. I’ve grilled halloumi, seared sausages, and produced omelettes so fluffy, even Mary Berry would do a double take.

The microwave handles late-night curries. The air fryer does crisped-up scampi. The Ninja soup maker crafts questionable beetroot experiments. And the kettle/toaster duo makes morning magic.

Kettle Chips are the official crisp. Sour cream & chive = elite. Sea salt & balsamic = posh camping. And with cold cider from the fridge? That’s campervan cuisine, mate.

Chapter 5:

Climate Control – Heating, Cooling and Hiding from the British Weather

With a Webasto diesel heater, I laugh in the face of frost. The Dreo Atom 316, with Alexa integration, gives me power over the air itself. “Alexa, warm me,” I whisper. She obeys. I recline.

The Jackery 1000 powers the lot. Microwave. Projector. Lighting. Emotionally unstable drone chargers. The Jackery 240 handles the little things—phones, lights, smug satisfaction.

Wind deflectors let me breathe fresh air in storms without soaking my socks. The pop-top roof creates air movement like a penthouse wind tunnel. Vanilla doesn’t just beat the weather—she toys with it.

Chapter 6:

The Mod Zone – Wi-Fi, Wind Deflectors and Why I’m Smarter Than Clarkson

Vanilla is modded. She has onboard Wi-Fi. She has Vee Dub wind deflectors and a bonnet deflector that screams, “I’ve read What Car? magazine cover to cover.”

Inside: LED lighting that would make an Ibiza nightclub jealous. USB-C sockets. 12V charging. Labeled cables courtesy of a Niimbot label maker—because organisation is the ultimate flex.

And the projector setup? Next level. Films projected onto a pop-top screen while I sit in a folding chair with warm socks and a full belly? This is the dream Clarkson thinks he’s living. He isn’t. I am.

Chapter 7:

Camp Life – Awning Wars, Toilet Tactics and the Midge Apocalypse

The awning setup is a one-man war against gravity and poorly marked tent pegs. I pitch with precision. Stakes down. Tensioned guy ropes. And a setup that says, “This man owns thermal socks and a laminator.”

The Porta Potti is respected. Only used when nature forces my hand. Cleaned like an heirloom. Never disrespected. Always feared.

Midges? Brutal. But I have citronella, repellent, and the rage of a man whose barbecue was once spoiled. I do not lose to insects.

Neighbours come and go. Some lend sugar. Some ask to borrow my ramps. One asked if they could borrow the van. I said no. Then zipped the door up. Twice.

Chapter 8:

People I’ve Met (and Regretted Talking To)

Campervan people are a breed. You get:

• Know-it-All Keiths, with their unrequested peg tensioning advice.

• The Oversharers, with health updates no one asked for.

• The Acoustic Guitarists, who think Wonderwall is still legally required.

• The Preppers, who label snack boxes and know the wattage of everything.

• The Wanderers, barefoot and possibly lost.

• The Borrowers, who start with a mallet and end up in your fridge.

• The Legends, who compliment the van and mean it.

Camp life brings everyone together. Often too close. But that’s the game.

Chapter 9:

When Things Go Wrong – Punctures, Power Cuts and the Porta Potti Incident

Disasters? Oh yes.

• A puncture scare turned out to be a twig.

• A Jackery failure during a film night. Caused by overconfidence and hummus.

• The Porta Potti Incident—blue chemical spill. Witnesses traumatised. Ground still cursed.

• A leaky pop-top vent gave me a soggy pillow and a lesson in zip positioning.

• An ant invasion after flapjack crumbs. Tiny. Determined. Sent packing with Dettol and vengeance.

But Vanilla always bounces back. As do I. With slightly more sighing.

Chapter 10:

Vanilla Dreams – The Future, The Road Ahead, and a Nostalgic Montage

Vanilla has taken me places. Geographically. Emotionally. Snack-wise.

I’ve seen sunsets from cliffs. Watched films in fields. Fried bacon in storm-force winds. Laughed at rain. Cried at Rattlers. Reheated pies like a champion.

The future? More roads. More nights under stars. More Kettle Chips. Upgrades. Solar maybe. European tours. Or just Staffordshire again. Who cares?

Vanilla isn’t a van. She’s a companion. A kitchen. A cinema. A fortress. A dream on four wheels.

We ride. We recline. We air-fry.

This is Vanilla. And this is life.

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