As I’ve grown older and wider…err…wiser, I’ve been able to answer many questions that once baffled me, such as . . .
“Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?”
The answer is now blindingly obvious.
It’s because your pockets are full of birdseed.
And . . .
“If a picture paints a thousand words, why can’t I paint you?”
Because I failed my G.C.S.E. in Art.
But some things still have me scratching my head, apart from dandruff.
The most vexing question of all being . . . what is the strange madness that insidiously persuades a normal person to purchase a touring caravan?
I just don’t get it.
They take over your driveway and have to be hooked-up to your car so you can head off to a faraway campsite where you can sleep in a smaller, cramped version of the larger, more comfortable home you couldn’t wait to get away from.
It can’t just be me who thinks this is bonkers, surely?
Just last weekend as I was headed down the M5, a designated HR – indicating ‘Holdups . . . Regularly’ – I was accompanied by an army of cars towing rectangular metal homes on wheels, all the way to my coastal destination, where their owners would sleep in smaller, cramped versions of the larger more comfortable home they’d . . . well, you get the picture.
I, however, booked into a smashing B and B supported by foundations, not wheels.
The incident that put me off caravans forever happened when I was staying with some wealthy, caravan-loving friends around the time they were looking for a grander, more expensive replacement for their then-current state-of-the-art, four-berth model.
Being an agreeable fool, I foolishly agreed to accompany them while they spent a very long afternoon wandering around an enormous caravan sales site, forensically inspecting every inch of every single model on display, as their non-stop commentary on every ‘delightful’ space-saving item that caught their eye got me thinking of various dramatic escape plans, like fainting . . . or death.
As the hours dragged-by I noticed that every caravan’s furniture, fixtures and fittings were just miniature reproductions of what my friends already had in their house!
I wanted to shout: “Stay at home and enjoy the additional space!”
By the time I’d seen inside the umpteenth caravan I was so bored that to break the monotony I adjourned to the coffee shop and completed an application form to join the Caravan Club.
The coffee wasn’t up to much either.