Full review

I UNDERTOOK some of my photography at the Caravan Club’s Broadway site, and several people voiced the opinion that from some angles (most notably the dead-on side profile) both the cynic and the ignoramus could mistake the Warwick for a minibus.

Those in the know, however, felt (like me) that it’s an uncommonly handsome machine, with those heavily blacked-out windows making it look like it’s wearing a pair of wraparound Ray Bans.

The factory tail-lights that never make it onto re-bodied coachbuilts lend the rear a thoroughly MPV car-like appearance, too, especially with that pert little lip spoiler sitting on the leading edge of the roof.

Whisking back the large sliding side door brings with it its own little surprise as you’re faced with not a central lounge (as you might have expected), but the offside kitchen.

Climb aboard and the galley stretches, seemingly forever, towards the rear of the vehicle. And there, in the distance, sits the lounge, right by the twin rear doors.

Most of the time, you can leave the lounge made up as twin parallel settees (each of which – and this is something of a rarity among rear lounge Auto-Sleeper motorhomes – is of equal length), but the simple employment of a small folding table, an extra cushion on top of it, and a pair of backrests that attach to the rear doors via solid metal hooks turns it instantly into a U-shaped lounge.

Come lights-out, pulling each of the metal-framed settees into the middle of the vehicle creates a double bed that measures a whopping 6ft 2in by 4ft 6in.

The only drawback here is that neither settee is long enough to act as a single bed, although the lockers beneath are almost entirely obstruction-free.

The kitchen has a vast expanse of worktop. The cooker is the same dual-fuel Caprice 2040E domestic-style affair you get in the Sandhurst, and the sunken linen-effect sink/drainer unit, gas/electric Truma Ultraheat boiler and sunken waste bin do not disappoint.

Space heating, incidentally, comes via either the mains or diesel-fired Webasto systems.

Pressure of space means that the washroom is of the all-in-one variety, with not even a swing-wall vanity unit to open up a ‘separate’ shower.

That said, the tip-up washbasin and bench-type loo, while a little anachronistic in these enlightened times, do make the most of the available room, and the shower tray is both large and well-served by a pair of diametrically-opposed plugholes for optimum drain-away, no matter how uneven your pitch.

A full version of this review appeared in the August 2007 issue of Which Motorcaravan. To order a road test reprint ring 01778 391187. To subscribe to the magazine, click here.