Privacy, therefore, is an issue, unless you close and popper up the curtains around the back end of the van first. This, of course, takes time, so it’s a pain if you’re desperate. 

There’s then a rollerblind that you can fix in place between yourself and the rest of the van, to preserve some of your dignity – although if you’re sharing this space with someone else (remember: the Custom Nugget sleeps four), they’ll hear (and, not to put too fine a point on it, smell) everything that’s going on. 

Thankfully, I’m on my own, so none of this is too much of an issue. More of a concern comes when, having finished, I fold down the dinky wash basin and turn on the tap, whose supposedly twist-on nozzle promptly pops off and fires itself into the opposite wall, leaving only a jet of water with which to wash my hands. 

There’s no oven on board – it’s just the two gas hobs – so supper is to be that staple of campers everywhere: spam and beans, with a bit of grated cheese on top for that gourmet touch. 

Night has long since fallen, so I’ve duly closed the rest of the curtains and put up the silver screens in the front windows. Ensconced within my little, warm box, I wolf down my spam and beans, and wash it down with a couple of beers. Once the washing up has been done, I twist round the two front seats and recline, feet up on the sliding banquette. 

With my phone hooked up to the stereo using Apple CarPlay, I get some Christmas carols on the go before I dive into a bottle of Bunnahabhain and a good book. Far from being a compromise, this is in fact turning out to be a very pleasing way to spend an evening – even in the middle of winter. Good enough, I’d add, that I might well choose to repeat it one day.

Would it be as pleasant with a companion? Yes, probably, although three of them might be a push. If you do plan to use the Nugget at its maximum capacity, you’ll probably benefit from the addition of an awning to add to its living space, unless you don’t mind getting to know all of your camping companions very well indeed. 

Away in a manger

On my own, I get a choice between which bed to use, of course. The table can be stowed and the banquette folded out into a small double, but I plump instead for the fold-down bunk, which is the full width of the van and therefore more spacious. It’s accessed easily; unhook the straps that hold it up into the roof, flip it down, and attach the ladder to the kitchen units to climb up into it. 

Before bed, though, I step outside for a few minutes to take in the night air. It’s drizzling gently and the forest is pitch black. What’s the appeal of being out here? I can’t say, but appeal it does; there’s something about being in the middle of nowhere on a winter’s night, yet wrapped up warm in a cosy little box with mince pies and whisky on tap, that makes this a very satisfying way to do a pre-Christmas break. 

I’m expecting to feel chilly given my bed is up in the canvas section of the roof, but under a duvet, and with the diesel heater quietly maintaining the temperature, I’m surprised to find I’m too warm if anything, and need to remove the jumper I’d packed at my wife’s insistence. 

Indeed, the bunk is far more comfortable than I’d expected, and I sleep soundly until I’m woken at 6:30 by what sounds like someone being murdered in the nearby woods. As my heart returns to its normal pace and I bring my breathing under control, I tell myself it was just an animal, but sleep eludes me thereafter, so I decide to get up.

I had high hopes of taking in the sunrise, but this is England and it’s winter, so instead I strip away the front window screens and watch through the thin layer of condensation that’s accrued thereon as the sky turns from dark grey to a lighter grey. Still, there’s hot coffee and pains au chocolat, and an episode of Just A Minute on the radio, so it’s not all bad.

Such sweet sorrow

Before I leave, and am therefore faced with the ignominy of emptying the cassette toilet and grey water tanks, I ponder this little experiment. Far from being riddled with unpleasantness, as one might have expected (well, with the exception of the aforementioned khazi evacuation), Christmas campervanning has proven rather splendid. 

There are a few caveats, of course; this is a shiny, new (and, at £73,134, rather expensive) camper fitted with a good diesel heater, and the temperatures didn’t exactly drop to Antarctic levels during my night away. Even so, I was surprised by just how much I enjoyed spending a night in the middle of a forest in winter, in a Transit van. 

What about that Transit van, though? Well, on balance, it’s good, but it has its downsides too. That loo, for one thing, feels like a compromise – it’s better suited to occasional use between toilet-equipped campsites than something to rely on for a whole week. There’s no shower, either, apart from that hand-held nozzle you have you use outdoors.