We got our first sight of the lovely Daisy sitting in the tall car area of the Gatwick airport arrivals car park. Nanna and Grandad’s latest baby is a brilliant VW camper van. A VW T25, known in the States as a vanagon, so not the classic icon that you envisage when you say “VW camper van” and that currently appears to be the design focus of numerous t-shirts, mugs and what not in every store in England at the moment, but a gem nonetheless. Daisy immediately proved her worth by comfortably fitting all the Allen luggage and our single jogging stroller into her hold with no overspill. We rode back to Tavistock in style with myself passed out in the front, occasionally waking to freak out momentarily at falling asleep at the wheel before remembering I was back in England now and the driver’s seat was next to me, while two tired children, Nanna and a big black dog (that would be Molly) stretched out in the back.
Poor Bea was ill as we travelled down to Devon and Daisy proved to be a godsend in that instance too as Nanna had plenty of room and a bucket on hand to deal with my little sick moppet.
When we stopped en route for a break Daisy’s top got popped, a cuppa brewed and biscuits produced. Brilliant.
In the past four weeks we’ve action tested Daisy twice for camping and have another campsite booked for our imminent arrival. Here’s my little happy campers munching on pasties at Old MacDonald’s Farm, our virgin camping expedition to the North Cornwall coast:
Three cheers for Daisy!
Little Daisy is a red wagon which is doing a grand job of hauling Sam and Bea around Devon, Cornwall and Dorset. Little Daisy garnered lots of positive attention as we wandered the Royal Cornwall Show and has been up hill, down many a dale with its hefty load.
She nestles nicely inside Daisy’s hold and is always ready for action and adventure. Daisy and Little Daisy are like Thunderbird 2 carrying a pod containing Thunderbird 4, except a lot smaller, quicker and we don’t have a hidden runway disguised by palm trees.
Perched on top of the hill just up the lane from us on Whitchurch Down, its boundaries marked by a ring of granite standing stones is Tavistock Cricket Club. During non club hours Dartmoor ponies, sheep, and sometimes cows, freely wander through the open ring and stake claim to the grass, though they are prohibited from trying out for the local team by an electrified fence that protects the pitch. A walk straight across the green is a common short cut for us to cross the Down and head into Tavistock proper. I was taking Bea out and over for one such stroll into town when I realised that the white line connecting the stones around the field was not sprayed grass as I had at first assumed, but instead is a ring of pretty white daisies.
My final Daisy is the avian self proclaimed matriarch of the Prout household. She lives in a large cage in the farmhouse kitchen, spends her lives strutting up and down the wire walls shouting loud authoritative greetings and orders to all who enter, and anyone in earshot (which is quite a distance). When Lynsey Prout, Bawcombe Farm’s real firm rod of discipline is out roaming around, supervising foster children, or terrorising local rugby teams (on pitch and in t’pub) Daisy does a fine job of substitute. If you didn’t know better you would think it was the youngest Prout sister herself shouting at you from the kitchen and making you quake.