I clung grimly to the steering wheel as we rolled down the M25, engine roaring, cupboards slamming, and made a mental list of things that a camper van doesn't like. It doesn't like wind. It doesn't like fast roads. It doesn't like lorries. Surprisingly, it doesn't much mind rain - you are up high enough to avoid splashback from the other cars.

A day later, pootling around the South Coast, snug in my beautifully comfy seat, I had stopped caring about any of that. True, Gracie, as she was called, didn't much like the uneven roads, the corners or the hills. Jeremy Clarkson would probably cry if he had to drive her for a day. But I wasn't bothered. Trundling along at 45mph was doing me very nicely. It even felt rather fast. Because here is the miraculous thing: a camper van slows you down - very quickly.

Look, you ain't getting anywhere fast, so get used to it. “The biggest mistake people make is they get too ambitious,” said Steven Lord, of Snailtrail, which rents out modern models of the classic VW camper from its base in Bedfordshire. “They think they can go to Cornwall for a weekend.” Estimate how long it would normally take you to get somewhere, then double it and you should be all right.

Fortunately, I wasn't planning anything fancy, just a pootle around the South Coast en route to a friend's wedding near Brighton. My daughter had bigger plans, however: she wanted to live in Gracie for ever. She couldn't have been happier if I had bought her a sweet factory. Oh, the joy of carrying your bedroom, sitting room and kitchen in a car. The excitement of the double-decker sleeping area. And you can smile and wave at people out the back. Four days, I kept telling her; it's only ours for four days.

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Every child within tumbling distance will clamber into your van. They will open the cupboards, raise the roof, locate the mattresses, flick the switches, turn on the hidden DVD player, black out the windows, try out the tap, the sink, the table - they will swarm over it all like happy bees.

But I had to get to the wedding. Travelling in Gracie, I had allowed half a day and a night to drive from West Sussex, about 50 miles away. By now, Gracie was charming me. You look at the world with fresh eyes from high up behind that enormous steering wheel: interesting hedgerows, more sky, that kind of thing. We beetled down to the South Coast and there I discovered a flaw in my plan - you can't just stop somewhere and sleep. Not in southern England.

Every car park has a “no overnight/we will tow you” sign in it. Every promising view is double yellow-lined. Eventually I found a place, on a road up against the sea's edge. I wanted to sleep to the sound of the waves. Put up the blackout covers, got my daughter into her pyjamas, when - nyeeeerrrrrr. The roar of teenagers racing cars up and down the seafront. Blimey, I was on an illegal race track. And they weren't even drunk yet.

Take down the blinds, etc. Drive to a campsite a few miles back - “Sorry. No camping. No caravans”. Road barred. It took about an hour to find somewhere reasonably remote, yet secure: down a track nestled into the South Downs, just up from a railway line with the occasional train rattling reassuringly by in the distance.

The next morning I was reminded that sadly, in England, you must also bear in mind the ghastliness of the domestic tourist industry: the grim landladies, hotels that won't serve breakfast to a non-resident, locked lavatories, the woeful lack of spirit and generosity. So nul points to the sprawling hotel at Birling Gap, and a big, grateful hurrah to the warm welcome at cosy Gibby's in Filching.

Happily full of Gibby's poached eggs and scones, we made it to the wedding, and the following day I was more organised. You really can cook on the gas hob in this van (as long as you raise the roof so that you can stand up). Waking to the sound of curious sheep, I had coffee and bacon rolls for seven people rustled up before my friends had risen from their tents.

Did I say Gracie was slow? Hell, on the way back, with only a smashed rear fog lamp to report, I hit 65mph. Twice. On the A3 near Guildford, I overtook a minibus. I was queen of the road, mistress of the highway. Oh, yes, I was a very happy camper.

NEED TO KNOW

Snailtrail (01767 600440, www.snailtrail.co.uk) offers retro-style Volkswagen camper van hire from £375 for a three-night weekend. One week starts at £500. The cost includes insurance and unlimited mileage. Vans sleep up to four

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