When I was younger, I had numerous pet hates. People who don’t thank you when you hold the door open for them — the sliver of ear that pokes through certain hairstyles (mainly on women) — bourbon biscuits — touring caravans… the list was quite extensive. Roll on a few years and it’s amazing how age mellows a person and these little irks are no longer, well, irksome. And in some cases I’ve done a complete 360° turn and the pet hate has morphed into a pet love (although this will never be said for the ear thing — I still hate that). And Bourbon biscuits. However, touring caravans have redeemed themselves to such an extent, I actually shed a little tear when we waved goodbye to our last one. Who’d have thought it? Not me, that’s for sure. But that’s genuinely what happened. Our cool caravan Dolly — funny little box on wheels — had became such an integral part of our family life that I was gutted when we sold her a few weeks ago. A vision of shabby chic — probably more shabby than chic — and the catalyst for so many amazing adventures. She offered the most comfortable bed and shelter from torrential rain (I’m thinking Glastonbury… Read More