As the title of this blog might suggest, I feel as though I am being replaced by a caravan. Of course this is a bit of a strange and weird notion to suggest but I have a good reason behind it. My mother and father recently bought a touring caravan. Yep, my mum who used to be a disco diva and my dad who used to be a boy about town in his red Datsun 240Z with an engine as reliable as the Eurostar on a snowy day now own a portable home. They may read this and shout "USED TO! We're still young and happening" but I challenge them to say this while they're towing a white, plastic, miniature home with embroidered cushions to match the neutral interior design down the motorway (in the slow lane). Don't get me wrong I love my mum and dad and as parents go they are pretty cool but it is the caravan I have the issue with, its the newest family member and without sounding like too much of a spoilt brat it is receiving far too much attention for my liking.
My brother and I have been living away from home because of university and he is about to start a new job as he graduated last year so I therefore have a theory as to why my parents bought this attention seeking, little box. It is a replacement child. We are both growing up and moving out of the parental home which means they need something to nurture and care for. I suppose that aspect of it is quite lovely that they want something to look after, but could they not have bought a cute puppy or a kitten instead? The caravan dominates everything and whatever the caravan wants the caravan shall get. There are shopping trips to buy little, pretty things for the caravan, objects around the house deemed unused will find their way into the caravan, there are even miniature ketchups, salad creams and HP sauce bottles specifically bought for the flipping caravan and whenever my grandparents visit the conversation inevitably turns to the caravan because, yes you guessed it, they have a caravan too! There are conversations about the flushing system of their toilets, tales of parking up their caravans on a better spot than the one the park ranger had initially directed them to and a slagging match about the arrogant smart-arse with his flashy, monstrous, american motor home on their latest excursion.
If the caravan were a child it would be the favourite by far. I was visiting home recently and my mum usually gives me a few bits and bobs of food to bring back up to uni with me but this time when I asked if there was any tinned steak (I eat a lot of tinned food) she replied "oh er, well there was but I put it in the caravan before it went to the caravan park". This may not seem like such a big issue or a problem as I could just easily go and buy the tinned steak myself but it is the principle of the fact that the caravan got there first. If it could speak I know for sure it would tease me about all the fun the three of them have had together, all the places they have been and the journeys they have shared.
Maybe its because I'm the youngest in the family, I'm used to being the one that gets away with everything, the one that gets more sympathy and the one that's wrapped up in bubble wrap. Well my bubble wrap has well and truly been popped, squeezed, twisted and burst by the caravan.
I wonder if this is what my big brother went through when I came into existence? He used to sit building towers with his Lego and I would roll into them when I was a baby consequently knocking the multi-coloured towers over. Perhaps if I were to build a similar tower of tinned steak the caravan would unscrew its legs and roll into them knocking them over? Its a radical thought but this is the stage I am getting to; it has a personality and one that I do not like.
This is not a man's world or a woman's world, but a caravan's world so beware if you ever hear your parents say "I think we might buy a caravan."
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