We have a caravan at the seaside. Some call it a static to distinguish it from a tourer which is pulled behind a vehicle. Others call it a mobile home, although mobile it is not, and the pretentious call it a holiday home. Caravans living has improved over the years what with central heating and double glazing.
For me, it is a haven. While I was teaching, no marking or preparation for school ever passed through its doors. However, it is enjoyable to write there.
It allows us to decorate using a nautical theme which would be classed as kitsch in any other setting.
We have our own beach which comes ever nearer as the coastal erosion worsens year on year. There is neither bingo nor bar on the site, just a duck pond and a large field for playing games.
Four generations of us enjoy ourselves and nobody bats an eyelid when I stroll around in pink crocs and a sunhat which would not be out of place on Paddington Bear.
I feel my mood lighten as I approach it and I love to be lulled asleep at night to the sound of the sea.