VW Camper van - best week ever.

Throughout my misguided youth there were a few things I dreamt of achieving in life:

1.) Buying a 70s VW campervan.
2. Finding and falling in love with a man who had cool hair (curly) and a fit beard.

3.) Owning a dog.

4.) Learning to surf.

(Oh, and moving to California to live by the sea. I’ve given up on that dream. I’ve travelled the West coast from San Francisco to San Diego and I’m happy with that).

So...

I’ve found a man with curly hair and a sexy beard. 

I’ve owned a golden cocker spaniel called Gwyneth.

I’ve had a few attempts surfing and albeit it not for long, I can stand up.

Luckily through my job at the Daily Star as showbiz editor, I can now tick off my biggest dream of living in a campervan – not just any, a 1972 VW.

It was literally a dream come true when I was offered the chance to do a travel feature driving around Devon in a V-Dub.

Me and my boyfriend Jimmy couldn’t believe our luck as we picked up our bright red camper called Ordell in Okehampton from O Connor’s Campers. (www.oconnorscampers.co.uk)

It looked perfect. Gleaming in the sunshine with shiny, chrome wheels, just waiting for us to jump aboard and start our adventure.

We were free from the London rat-race.

The only thing we needed to think about was where we wanted to hang out. And how long for.

 

Meeting Ordell for the first time

After picking up the van in Okehampton we decided to have an early morning horse ride across the moors, we were so close to Dartmoor - it seemed rude not too.

The moors were still covered with morning frost and dew, also an underlying air of eeriness.

As we cantered across the open land we were joined by a flock of swallows who flew alongside us.

They were beautiful and tame. As we went faster, they started to weave in and out our horses trying to keep up with us.

Apart from the swallows there was nothing to see for miles, just land and the occasional lone sheep.

Jimmy and Me riding across the moors

We then drove straight to Dartmoor to a campsite called St Leonard's Cove.

It was stunning, situated on a cliff at the top of a small cove, surrounded by panoramic views and turquoise sea.

We parked up Ordell, popped up the roof (our bedroom for the week), and lit our first camp fire.
Jimmy started making his camping speciality - prawn risotto.

We drank wine, smoked, played music and chatted animatedly about what we wanted to do in our amazing travelling companion.



Ordell on the first night - sleeping in the roof was really cosy and comfty

Chilling with our awning, fire pit and laterns on the first night

We decided to get up early and go cliff jumping.

It was a simple, we just popped the roof back down, chucked all our stuff inside and drove off down the country lanes to Torquay.

We cracked open a beer for the ride, ( can't lie we were a bit nervous).
Also we were on holiday time, which means it’s acceptable to drink beer whenever, even at 10am. Yes?

In our wetsuits just about to go cliff jumping

Coasteering and cliff jumping was amazing.

We scrambled across ragged cliffs and then threw ourselves off them. To be honest we were a bit cautious jumping off the first rocky ledge, but when a 10-year-old girl in our group nominated herself to go first we  realized we needed to man-up.

As the day progressed said girl, our ‘young inspiration’ didn’t do anymore jumps.

Can’t say I blame her.

We decided to get a taxi Dartmouth on the second evening. It was a cool, petite place.

Little bistros everywhere, pubs, wine bars, posh restaurants, everything you could possible want. We were surprised how much was going on in this sleepy coastal town.

We had dinner in RockFish, which essentially is a fish and chip/ seafood joint, with a twist.

The queue was flowing out the door, everyone wanted a reservation and as soon as we started eating it was obvious why.

Jimmy ate Oysters for the first time.

We ended up getting quite drunk in Dartmouth and dancing the night away in a wine bar as a man played a piano in the corner. Not what you'd expect from a camping holiday.

To hire a campervan from O'Connors Campers check out their webiste here or call 01937 659 599.

*our 4 berth 1972 campervan Ordell was given to us free of charge, in return for a travel feature in OK! Extra magazine.

VW campervan adventure - part two

On three day we decided to hang out along the coast south of St Leonards Cove.

We popped up the campervan’s back door and sat, staring out at the sea, eating a picnic and sunbathing.

 

Chilling out in Ordell having a picnic





A little beach near St Leonard Cove

For the third night we decided to drive across Devon down the picturesque coast line, trundling through the narrow, hedge-lined, country lanes to Hartland Point.

As the sun started to set we were blissfully blasting out some of our favorite tunes from the likes of The Pieces, Ed Sheeran and The Drums - perfect coasting, crusing music.



The sun setting on the way to Stoke Barton

Jimmy getting his sunshine cruise on

We were told Stoke Barton Farm was off the beaten track, very rustic and the perfect place to go to escape everything.

Despite knowing this we were quite shocked when we arrived at the farm. There were 500 acres of land.

Green rolling fields for as far as we could see.

There were no lamp posts or lights, so we knew it was going to be pitch black at night.

Good job we packed a torch. We parked up and lit a roaring fire.

We sat out drinking and chatting with nothing but the florescent night sky to entertain us, I’ve never seen so many twinkling stars.

It was like a sitting under a canopy of a hand-painted night sky, thousands sparkling in every direction.

We woke up really early, refreshed and eager to check out the area,

So set off for a long coastal walk down to the Quarry.



coastal walk along the rough and rugged Quarry

To hire a campervan from O'Connors Campers check out their webiste here or call 01937 659 599.

*our 4 berth 1972 campervan Ordell was given to us free of charge, in return for a travel feature in OK! Extra magazine.

VW campervan - part three

As the days went on we fell more and more in love with our campervan Ordell.
We slept in her canvas pop-up roof every night and by some stroke of luck woke up feeling more refreshed and happy than you could imagine.

The last place on our list was Croyde Bay and Woolacombe in north Devon.

Once again we packed up camp and set off for Surfers Paradise in Croyde Bay  - to hire some wetsuits and surf boards. The sun was blazing, the beach was packed.

And without even realising what we were doing, we walked into a surf shop and brought two brand new wetsuits and surf boards. We couldn’t resist.



Jimmy making a pizza base



We made our way over to Woolacombe Bay campsite and drove right to the top of the cliff. We found a nice area, under a opening of trees.

Jimmy started making pizza dough, we’d never baked pizza on a camp fire before, but were well up for giving it a go. And I cracked open a G’nT.

You might have noticed Jim does most of the cooking, he used to be a chef.
So I just put my feet up and enjoyed letting a man doing the dirty work.
Bad form, I know.



The pizza half cooked on the fire, so far so good.



camping under the trees and the stars

We spent our last few afternoons hanging out in the sea, trying to catch as many waves as possible.

We also tested a wide variety of pasties, cottage cream ice ceams and fish 'n chips.
It was brilliant.
So much fun and literally hundreds of people doing exactly the same. Suring, eating, drinking, sleeping.

We headed to Croyde Bay for a beer and dinner at the infamous surfers pub The Thatch

Who knew you could have so much fun in Devon? And get a good tan at the same time?

I set up Pete Doherty on the iPod and we came to terms with the fact we had to drive back to Okehampton and hand back the VW campervan.

We were well and truly gutted.

We spent most of the two hour journey back discussing ways we could save up to buy our own VW.

I even agreed to sell my beloved car (it was a present from my Dad) or failing that get a second job in a bar.

Eventually we arrived, hearts in our hands and begrudgingly handed over the key to the O'Connor Campers staff. 

Despite the feeling of sadness, we knew we’d just had the most entertaining, chilled out and happy seven days.



Dropping Ordell back at O'Connor's Campers with all the other vans



Once last picture of Jimmy with our red beaut

We’ve been back in London a few weeks now and we still can’t stop thinking and reminiscing about our amazing trip.

We'll be renting an other VW campervan soon, that's a promise.

To hire a campervan from O'Connors Campers check out their webiste here or call 01937 659 599.

*our 4 berth 1972 campervan Ordell was given to us free of charge, in return for a travel feature in OK! Extra magazine.

Celebrity bash in The Cube Birmingham

Michelle Keegan - aka the hot one of Corrie

I'm originally from Solihull, West Midlands but have been living in London for four years (this time round. And for two years the first time round, back in 2000).
So, naturally, whenever there's an excuse/ a party/ showbiz event/ media bash in Birmingham, which I can cover for work, I'm there like a reoccurring bad smell. All over it.
So when I was invited to the opening of a new hair salon in The Cube in Birmingham's Mailbox, I couldn't wait to get on the train... Brummie-bound.

The event was to celebrate Adee Phelan opening a salon in The Cube. Adee's most famous for cutting global sex god David Beckham's hair. He has also been on Channel 4's The Salon and has a array of celebrity clients.
 

The turn out at his salon launch was impressive.
The entire Coronation Street cast (no exaggeration), Peter Stringfellow (you know, the lap dancing lothario), Imogen Thomas (Giggs' ex bed buddy) Charlotte Jackson (Sky Sports hottie), Alison Hammond (big brother lovey), Joey Essex (off The Only Way Is Essex), Lucien (hot lad who might've shagged Katona, depending on how much cash OK! are giving him to say he did?), Dean Gafney (insert your own joke), Suzanne Shaw (Darren Day shagger), Simon from Blue (guaranteed to turn up to the opening of anything) and a host of brummie footballers (no-one as exciting as Lee Hendrie or Gareth Barry circa 2003).

WAG extraordinaire Imogen Thomas

Imogen told me she is currently filming her first film. It's set in America, but she's shooting her parts in the UK.
She said she's still absolutely gutted about the Ryan Giggs malarkey and has no interest is seeing any other fellas.
She revealed she "speaks to her mum about four times everyday" telling me: "I'm still fragile and grieving, it was a huge shock." I later spotted her dirty dancing at the after-party in Bar Room Bar with Dean Gaffney. No joke. He looked like a horny teenager with his first copy of Viz.

It was a mighty fine evening of champagne and industry chitter-chatter amongst local TV, radio and PR people.
However, we were all starving, there was a severe lackage of food. Not even a measly little finger sarnie.
 Jeez Birmingham, if you wanna throw a proper celeb party, you need food.
This isn't Milan fashion week, we liked to eat whilst getting drunk.
Anyway, despite the nonexistence canapes, the party was good.


Joey Essex in his homemade shorts

Joey Essex is a law unto himself. Seriously.
He honestly thinks his home made/ hand made jean shorts are the biz.
He told me he'd like to a get a Mohawk as his Dad had one in the 70s and he thinks they're cool.
Joey also can't wait to get rid of his naff Smart Car. But the producers of TOWIE think it's hilarious that he has to drive around in such a crap-mobile.
He reckons his next car will be a two seater Land Rover, "they look a bit like a Smart car" he told me.
A Landrover with two seats??? Only on planet Essex.

Lucien from Celeb Big Bro

GQ awards

It's fair to say there are a few perks of my job.
Despite reporting on showbiz event for years I still get excited about drinking free champagne, eating delicious canopies/ cupcakes/ petit fours and going home with a smile on my face and a goodie bag in my hand.
You'd have thought by now this would've run thin but I have to admit I still love showbiz schmoozing, once in a while.
Not to mention meeting fit celebrity men, who you can drool over unashamedly, not looking like a mentalist stalker as it's my 'job' to chat to them.

There are a few nights every year in the annual showbiz calendar that genuinely get me excited.
The GQ awards is definitely one of them.
Picture the scene. A sea of tanned, muscly A list men in crisp, tailored suits. A strong stench of  testosterone clouding up the air of otherwise overwhelming Gucci/ Channel and D&G aftershave.
Tray after tray of champagne flutes, Gin 'n Tonic fishbowls and an array of rum cocktails being passed around by men in sharp waiter suits.
Meanwhile semi-clad ladies handing out mouth-watering plates of Godiva chocolates.
Jason Statham smoking a cigar in one corner, James Corden throwing some shapes in another, Bradley Cooper being manhandled at the bar, Jamie Redknapp looking sublime entering the gents and Abbey Clancey being sized up by every Y chromosome in the place.
Suddenly out of no-where, across the room I look up and spy One Direction. What the heck were they doing here? Surely it's past their bed time? Are they even allowed to drink yet?
And instantly the glamour of 2011 GQ Man Of The Year Awards begins to fade.

Last year I met Noel Gallagher for the first time. What a dude.
I've been a big fan since my early Oasis days circa 1995, when I used to drive around in my mate's cars getting inebriated listening to What's The Story Morning Glory.
Noel was every inch the ultimate celebrity I'd expected. Cocky but calm, handsome yet dishevelled, sharp-tongued but smart and not afraid to say it as it is. He told me he thought JLS were a boring load of tosh, who need to man up and get some rock 'n roll notches. Never a truer word spoken.
Also Mr Jason 'ardman, plastic gangster Statham shouted at me and my sidekick Sonja last year as we tried to get his attention to ask him a question.
He snarled and shouted, literally shouted at the top of his voice (no exaggeration): "INNNNNN AAAAAAA MMMMMINUTE!!!" at us.
To which, we promptly turned on our heels and did one.
No need to act like a twat Statham a simple, "I'm in the middle of a conversation" would have sufficed.
What a tit.
Anyway, back to this year. Here's a few photos we had....
To recap in brief Micheal McIntyre had a ten minute shouting match with his wife after she witnessed him flirting with The Saturdays. We watched the whole drunken debacle unfold in front of our eyes.
Micheal flirting, chatting and generally drooling over Frankie Sandford and Mollie King while his ever patient missus Kitty stood, alone, embarrassed in the wing.
Que, full on rant from Kitty and Micheal looking like a naughty toddler who'd peed his pants.

Meanwhile a yonder, Abbey Clancey looked impossibly perfect /skinny just four months after giving birth.

Me, James Cordon and Sonja



Abbey flashing off her post baby bod



Micheal McIntrye pre-bollocking off his wife and Jimmy Carr

  

The Saturday's Mollie and Frankie blissfully unaware of the storm in the teacup

Oh and it's my boyfriend birthday every year on the GQ awards, so I trundled off home at 1am with a swelling goodie bag stuffed with men's gifts...Dunhill aftershave, Clarins eye cream, moisterizer, shavers, books, DVDs, choclates, a bottle of Gin. Xbox game etc...
Naturally, I wrapped them all up and gave them to him as birthday presents the next day.
He was none the wiser.

V festival - Essex massive.

It's a known fact that journalists, PRs, liggers, people who are nearly C-list and other media types get very excited about the VIP area at V Festival in Chelmsford.


Me and my fella Jimmy hanging out in the Lounge

To be fair the Louder Lounge backstage area is the nuts.
It comes with three bars - which are totally free, a whole tent designated to free food, complimentary spray tans and hair styling, a MAC makeup tent and a place to get a manicure (again both free).
What more could anyone want?
The problem is, all this wonderful freeness makes it very hard to leave.
And surely the whole point of going to a festival is to hear bands and dance around in a muddy field?
No? Well, definitely not in Essex.
Seriously. Everyone just stayed in the VIP area rinsing the free bar, quaffing cocktails, cupcakes and free food.
Which is fine, but it still amazes me...even on my fourth year covering it for work.


What the Louder Lounge looks like.
No mud, glow sticks or piss filled paper cups anywhere to be seen





Free cupcakes - yeah!!

Anyway, before I got stuck into boozing, we did some work for the column. We interviewed Matt Smith a.k.a Dr Who and his gorgeous model girlfriend Daisy Lowe - you know the one who got her kit off in Playboy recently?
Yep, we all now know her choice of bikini wax. (Full Brazilian for anyone wondering).
Talking about the full-frontal, naked snaps Daisy told me her Nan was "very proud" of her getting her "nunny" out. Her choice of word, not mine. I prefer the more eloquent 'lady garden'.

Meanwhile we spotted her fella Matt puking all over himself. Seriously, I'm not exaggerating.
On the second morning of V festival we saw a very hungover-looking Matt legging it to the bathroom (by bathroom, I mean sweaty portaloo).
He tripped, fell on his knees and was sick on the grass before rolling behind a tent to hide.
Moments later Matt and Daisy were having a romantic morning snog. Lovely stuff.
Obviously, being journalists, both the above moments were well documented, by us, in a national tabloid newspaper.


Dr Who's Matt Smith






Matt's girlfriend. Daisy Lowe

 We interviewed a flurry of celebs for the GOSS column including Rupert Grint, Keith Lemon, Meg Matthews, Spanish hottie Elen Rivas (Frank Lampard's ex) and former Sugababe Keisha Buchanan. 

The MAC make-up tent - unfortunately I couldn't be bothered to go in.
The queue was crazy long.



I really wanted to sleep in this little funky
 hippy hangout, who needs a tent hey?

We finally broke free of the showbiz VIP area to go and see the mighty Arctic Monkeys headline. Which was pretty flipping awesome.


Having a wee dancing to the Arctics with my fella...



It's been a while but...I still love you, long time.

Shit, I realised today I haven't written on my blog for six weeks.
That's poor. I know.
Have I been too busy living life?
Have my creative juices stopped flowing?
Am I morphing into an over-weight, under-active, procrastinating fool?
The answer to all the above is... yes.

So to quickly recap the last six weeks have included V Festival, a life-inspiring VW camper van trip in Devon, the GQ awards, a couple of weddings and a dreaded, god damn, week-long cold.

First I will start with V festival and GQ awards.
I'll give the illness story a wide berth as being ill is piss boring. People banging on about having a cold, "oooh, I'm so ill, I've never felt this achey, I've got such a sore throat" are so boring.
Just stay at home and suffer in silence.

So V festival it is...