This is Elsie

Myself and Elsie outside Quedgeley Court, St George's Rd Peckham, summer of 1991.

This is the story of my 1971 Morris Minor van, 'Elsie'. Or at least the bit I know about since I bought her in June 1991 from a Mr Dave Burman in Palmers Green for £625. He had bought the van only a few months before in March '91 from an Albert Broadbent who was elderly and had finally given up trying to restore her. I suspect it was a mercy purchase, to save poor Albert from himself. There was a plate on the bulkhead from a garage in Palmers Green which was no longer in existence and I assume this was the garage which sold the van new, so it hadn’t moved very far in its life.

I had scoured Loot (a now extinct London free-ads paper) for months watching adverts for tempting little vans come and go, while I had my driving lessons. Of course, as soon as I passed my test, they all disappeared.

I had first seen a Morris van drive down the Old Kent Road as I stood waiting for a bus outside the launderette, and my eyes were on stalks. I never knew they had made a van! That was it for me, I had to learn to drive and I had to get a van of my own. I had not been particularly interested in learning to drive until that moment, but the sight of that noisy little blue and white blur clinched it.

This van, which finally appeared in Loot after an agonising wait, was 19 years old and originally badged as an Austin. It had an Austin steering wheel, but a Morris bonnet badge (which probably meant a prang to the front at some point in the past). It was blue with a white roof (several different shades of blue actually), and had the fabulous texture of an orange, having been sprayed extremely badly with numerous small cans of paint. The tyres were wizened and bald with unhealthy cracks starting to appear

in the side-walls. The roof gutters were full of filler, and moss. The only positive thing I knew about it was that the chassis was sound, as another prospective buyer had got a mechanic to look at it earlier that week. I had luckily picked up the idea that this would be important. As we went for a test drive I cheerfully asked Mr Burman if it ran on petrol or diesel. I can't think why now, as I knew the answer from seeing my parents buying two-, three- or four-star petrol as a child. It might have been the fact that it sounded rather more like a tractor!

He rather generously said I could have my money back at the end of the week if I changed my mind – he obviously thought I was completely out of my depth. How right he was! But he underestimated my enthusiasm and the happy state of blissful ignorance in which I embarked on this partnership. I loved that van and nothing was going to part me from it if I could help it.

I drove home alone through London having passed my test only about a month before, which was very nerve wracking. I quickly discovered that driving a moggy van is rather like driving in a giant suit of armour, with about the same (non) visibility. One has to acquire a heightened sense of spatial awareness very fast.

Van door plate giving chassis number and weight regs.