The kettle had just gone on the gas stove for morning tea when Dave, the owner of the cycle hire company (also a local copper on a career break), turned up to drop our bikes off at the end of our large, fir-lined field. While talking us through the different cycle routes in the area, his gaze kept drifting off across the field to the marshmallow-coloured caravans.
After handing over the helmets and bike locks, his brow furrowed. "What are they like inside, then?" Obviously, he was desperate for a peek. We showed him in. Within our two curvaceous boxes of vintage fantasy indulgence lay glittering mirrors, flower print wallpaper, framed pictures of the Queen, pink glassware and a defunct beige teasmaid (honestly, it looked cool!). His smirk grew more bemused. His eyebrows rose higher when we mentioned that one caravan had been bought off a travelling community in Stoke-on-Trent. And when we opened the door to the separate, purpose-built bathroom cabin to show him the sea-green vintage bath painted with kittens, he burst out laughing and shook his head.
"This is some people's worst nightmare, isn't it? Mind you, my wife would probably like it – she's an art teacher."
Granted, the boutique caravanning concept is not for everyone. Too many damp weekends, fishfinger dinners and enforced bed-sharing linger in the British memory; there are too many associations with poverty; murderers tend to live in them in films.
And yet, for those who enjoy the toy-like novelties of miniature cupboards and fold-out beds (myself included), there is now an excuse to indulge those childish desires in a way that looks like a hip lifestyle choice and not just a bit sad. Caravans are poshing up and becoming cool. My tea leaves suggest they are about to become The Next Big Thing, hot on the heels of cool camping, glamping, treehouse retreats and Gypsy wagons.
To date, the concept has been limited to a couple of imaginative sites: Vintage Vacations on the Isle of Wight, and La Rosa near Whitby. Now Lovelane Caravans has provided an option in another corner of the country, featuring an adorable collection which opened in May on the remote Cornish Lizard peninsula.
I visited last weekend with two discerning friends – Charlie and her daughter Isabella (aged three), breaking the long journey from London at the Pandora Inn in Mylor, which has tables on a pontoon on the Restronguet Creek and coats its fish in the crispest, tissue-thin herb batter. The Pandora ferryboat runs drinkers and walkers from there across the estuary, so we paid £4 each (the tot was free) to go both ways – a cheap alternative to a proper boat trip, especially as, once the braying drunks had disembarked, the skipper diverted his route to take us searching for a seal he'd spotted earlier. Back on the pontoon, a man fishing for crabs with his grandson let us join in, and we felt a wave of affection for such kindly souls who spare their time for strangers.
We were greeted with hugs at Lovelane from owner Anna Bingham. Before indulging her passion for vintage caravans, she ran her own quirky lingerie label, Bas Bleu, in London, but now lives on a farm in nearby Constantine with her music-industry man, Dan, and Victor, their two-year-old.
Currently, two vintage caravans are available to guests – a pink 1958 Sterling in original condition with wooden cupboards, dusky pink velvet curtains and flowery sofas that can be pulled out to make a double bed, and a cream 1967 Vickers, a kitsch riot of mirrors, pink-grey mottled walls, cream sofas that form two doubles, with gold glassware and jugs.
On Anna's farm, guests can stay in a "pimped up" 70s showman's caravan, bought from a fairground family and once towed behind a waltzer, now with chandeliers and a chocolate-coloured bath with gold taps. The main field also has a safari tent (with Victorian beds soon to be added) and two more caravans – an Airstream and a smaller one – await conversion. There are also plans for a shepherd's hut, a vintage ice-cream van, saunas and a hot tub. And if you hire the whole field, more of your friends can pitch extra tents for free.
Of course, the kid had to have the pink, so I moved in to the Vickers, which I imagined was haunted by an Elvis impersonator. As we opened every drawer and cupboard, we delighted in the beautiful kitchenware and knick-knacks gleaned from Anna's secondhand store-trawling: old cameras, blankets, even antique dolls who became Isabella's rag-tag team of bodyguards.
While Charlie and I poked around inside, imagining (and dressing up like) we were travelling circus girls, Isabella ran around the field shrieking to be pushed on the very long swing. In the same way that my own memories of holidays at my Granny and Grampy's caravan in Cumbria are of red squirrels and the caravan site's playground, she was more interested in what was outside than in, her appreciation of vintage rareties not yet honed. But for a site whose appeal is largely aesthetic, it worked surprisingly well for a kid even as young as three.
Anna rents the field off Roskilly's farm, famous for its ice-cream, so we cycled there one afternoon to watch the cows being milked, and try trifle, clotted cream and apple crumble flavours in the vine-strung courtyard cafe. Another day we pedalled across the savannah-like Goonhilly Downs (home to several giant satellite dishes of an earth station, sadly no longer open to visitors) to Cornish Camels, an unusual 800-acre farm that, like all attractions on the Lizard, has free entry. There we met Camomile, Frank and other eyelash-fluttering beauties, and followed a nature trail to a menagerie of reas, wallabies and turkeys, which Isabella scattergunned with feed from the farm's shop-cafe.
We meant to visit all the Lizard's little beaches and coves – many named after smugglers and shipwrecks – but by the time the fire was crackling each morning, we'd boiled eggs, played boules and taken the dolls swimming in the antique pink potty, it was always 2pm. At Lizard point, Isabella was captivated by tales of shipwrecks on the information boards, and we bought supplies in the pretty fishing harbours of Coverack and Cadgewith Cove, where you can buy the day's catch and hear sea shanties sung late on Friday nights at the Cadgewith Cove Inn.
Within walking distance of the campsite were two coves, and the village of St Keverne where the organic Greenhouse restaurant filled us up with delicious crab soup, coconut-ginger plaice with samphire, and treacle tart that was bonfire night on a plate. "Would you like to blow all the candles out?" they asked Isabella at the end of the night (I'm afraid we stayed way past bedtime, retelling shipwreck tales).
Another night Anna and Victor came for a barbecue, bringing Bordeaux from the Post Office in Constantine, which doubles as an amazing off-licence stocking £12,000 bottles of brandy.
We fell for Lovelane totally, and yet it wasn't without its flaws. Practicality was forfeited for style at times. Every single item is personally treasure-hunted by Anna – "I just love old things!" A lovely idea, but that meant things that would have been useful hadn't yet been added – bowls, sufficient pillows and more oil lamps; there's no electricity, but two of the three lanterns stopped working – thankfully, we had brought our own.
And though Anna insists she's accepted there will be breakages, toddlers drinking from delicate glassware isn't ideal – surely some retro Tupperware or sturdy old tin mugs would fit in, but also be less of a risk?
The site is clearly a work in progress, and the caravans need fixing up a bit – the gas-powered fridge (only one caravan has one) wouldn't stay shut, the windows were grubby and one caravan didn't lock. More worrying was that the woodburning fire in the newly purchased bigger van hadn't been tested to check it worked safely.
But it's early days, and Anna says she is aware of these issues and is on the case. The key is remembering this isn't a hotel: caravanning hasn't moved on that far since the 70s, so you should prepare accordingly, then throw yourself with wild abandon into the kitsch wonderfulness and the chance to indulge your showgirl fantasies in this unspoilt corner of Britain.
• Lovelane Caravans (01326 340 406) has availability from August. Two-berth caravans from £180 for three nights, £275 per week.Porthleven Cycle Hire (01326 562976, porthlevencyclehire.co.uk), from £75 per adult per week, including delivery.
