When I was a boy. We lived on a pretty rough estate that bordered the countryside. Me, my brother and my mates would wander all over getting into all sorts of boys stuff, climbing trees, scrumping, catching lizards under bits of stone by the railway, and making go carts etc. You know the sort of thing. Anyway, some of the families on the estate were Gypsy families, the kids were no better off than us, they dressed the same, talked the same and generally acted the same. We got on with most of them, the only difference between us and them was, they never went to school much, they would go pea picking and fruit picking in the season, so couldn't be bothered with school. We envied them. There was a family of Gypsies that would stop over for a few days on the green. They had a boy about my age called Michael, and sometimes we would go over and chat to them. Michael was a really cool kid that spoke funny. Their home was an old Gypsy caravan that was drawn by an horse that fed off the land and any old bits and dabs that they had going spare. Anyhow, we would chat to this family and go off playing with their kids. I can only remember Michael, He was my age and the others were younger, Michael showed us how to eat things like nettles, dandelions and other stuff. I was always upset when we went over to see them and they had upped sticks overnight and gone. I knew it would be ages before we saw them again. I suppose they had their route and plan for the year. As I grew older I saw less and less of the family, but remember loads of silly little details about them. I remember how my Mum would tell me not to go mixing with those Gypsy kids etc, but I remember how kind the mother was and how simple their lives seemed. I was once allowed a peek into their beautiful caravan, the fire was going, the beds were made, it was all very neat and was like peeking into a dream world. Michael taught me to ride the horse without a saddle and how to fall off by sliding down the neck and not trying to jump off, or try to stay on when it was inevitable I wouldn't. They were halcyon day's and I have never forgotten them. I think it was my first yearning for life on the road and a love of campervans. I also suspect it had a little to do with me becoming a lorry driver and life on the open road. I love the scene in ' The wind in the willows' when Toad gets a Gypsy caravan and starts to wax lyrically about being here today in 'next week' tomorrow.... Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew up on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of the cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came to keep them company and listen to their talk. At last they turned in to their little bunks in the cart; and Toad, kicking out his legs, sleepily said, `Well, good night, you fellows! This is the real life for a gentleman! Talk about your old river!' The memory of Michael and his family caravan ( which was pretty much the same as Toad's ) has stayed with me forever. The simple life has always made me smile inside, no bills, no cars, none of the everyday worries about life in the system. Yet, my life has been spent adding stuff to my responsibilities, the same as everyone else I suppose. My deepest dream has always been, to own a horse and Gypsy caravan, to shed all responsibility and head off over the horizon, leading my horse to the fields and earn my crust doing some picking. Then head south for the winter, find a clearing with grazing, light a fire and try to play my harmonica.and meet new people. The adventure would be worth the hardship. I could bake an hedgehog in clay under the fire, instead of running them over with my lorry. ( definitely joking about that ) We could snuggle up in the caravan in the winter with a fire burning in the stove, and the wind howling all around. Bliss. I saw this one recently on t'internet.. It's just a dream folks. It won't happen. But what a dream?
Not the same I know, but I'm sure you can hire a horse drawn gypsy type caravan in Ireland, by the week.
You`ll never know until you try .. I too enjoyed the tale but reality would , i suspect , be very different , especially in this `enlightened` age . If any travellers so much as look at the village green these days they`d be shown the red card toot-sweeeet ! The dream ... Reality .... Everyone`s gotta have a dream though ....
If we thought too much about the reality of most things in our lives it would be quite depressing. I try to savour those moments when every thing seems just right because it doesn't last long.
My grandfather had one and let it rot much to the despair of my mother, long before I was born..... I concur and I would also like a Shepards hut
They had a couple of similar caravans offered for sale at the Dent Beer and Music Festival - if I'd only known Malc .....
Fantastic tale. About 20 years back I was doing a land survey at a place called doddington, down Lincoln way. There was such a caravan parked on the little bit of woodland we wre surveying. A young man about 30 was sat outside with his little dog, a guitar and a pony with a little kettle on the fire. he asked us when the builders were moving in and another of his regular stop off points would be gone. I too thought it would be a great way of life.
Village where I grew up in Scotland, the family who owned the village bakery sold up and bought a horse drawn caravan and planned to travel the UK but ended up travelling the world. Last I heard they were in Siberia or somewhere. This was years ago like. Think they wrote a book about it
