I remember beginning to write this in my caravan. On my laptop. By the time John arrived on Saturday we had three between us.

I remember I used to borrow Eliot's typewriter (which I had bought in a second-hand shop in Wadebridge one summer) because my one was electric and I only had 12v.

I remember practising To Be A Pilgrim in open-tuning in the awning.

I remember nearly losing my awning in a storm. I wasn't even at the caravan, I was working in London for a couple of days. Bernie and Phyllis saved it for me and got soaked into the bargain.

I remember driving up to Cleethorpes for one of my early caravanning adventures and running out of petrol - I hadn't realised how far away it was.

I remember - again this was early on - driving down little Pembury and realising the caravan was skidding to a stop in my rear-view mirror. I hadn't hooked up properly and the emergency break had come into play. Fortunately there was no damage. I never did that again.

I remember walking along Mill Lane at dusk and seeing bats darting about above us.

I remember meeting a macro-brewer called Gene in the Anchor and him inviting me to come and sample his ales and his hospitality. He was so passionate about his product. We had only known each other 10 minutes.

I remember Bernie squaring up to a mouthy little Liverpudlian. The guy was quite drunk but harmless (about half Bernie's size) and as he was leaving he kept commenting on Bear man's presence at the bar (complaining about the quality of the beer, which is what Bernie does if it is a bit cloudy). I commented afterwards that it is a bit much when you have to pull the pensioners apart, but because I had earlier been chatting amicably to him, I got the blame.

I remember taking a tea towel to the till of a pound shop in Dorchester and asking how much it was.

I remember Oliver's fried-egg sandwiches.

I remember caravan pasta.

I remember the Smith family. The rats. The dogs. The coincidence that Eliot - who only they call Elvis - and Andy were starting at the same grammar school the next term.

I remember the name Frisbee appearing on the campsite notice board. Though it hasn't appeared for a year or two.

I remember seeing The Hamsters in Lyme Regis. Stunning. Especially the way they swap instruments during one song and still play better than anyone else.

I remember seeing among others Joe Pasquale and Brian Connolly at Worthing. I think Eliot went up on stage for Brian Connolly - and I did for one of the acts we saw there. I got a lot of stick for being dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. "Thanks for making the effort." The woman in the newsagents in Bridport recognised me the next day. My 15 minutes of fame.

I remember a bit of my tooth falling out while I was eating a memsahib's curry.

I remember the Chideock Cider Makers.

I remember the notices I had stuck to the cupboard doors reminding me of bits that needed fixing. I never did get round to fixing the table. But my dad did - this month.

I remember the bits of wood Eliot used to burn his name into with a magnifying glass. And the wasps.

I remember a little boy in the next caravan who always dressed up in camouflage gear and played soldiers all the time.

I remember a campervan with APE as part of its registration. The bloke used to go fishing all the time. He changed vans, but I have the registration around somewhere. (It was stuck on one of the cupboards until I cleared the caravan out.)

I remember what a grotty job clearing out a chemical toilet is. Especially when people use it. Which is why over the years have I managed almost to do without it. Until Leah stayed the night.

I remember Ken and Leslie Snell, who taught me all I needed to know about caravanning. How to avoid perspiration damage by putting straw beach mats between the cushions and the tables when you make the beds up. How to avoid fading of the upholstery by keeping the curtains closed during the 50 weeks of the year the caravan's not being used. How gas barbecues are the only ones allowed on the continent because they cool down so quickly. Ken gave me little bits of MDF to place under the caravan legs to spread the load and stop them sinking into the grass/mud. As I write, 2d 12h 41m before my eBay auction closes, they are under the legs of the caravan at 303, protecting the asphalt.

I remember going to a couple of other places over the past 18 years, but not much about them. Except for Buckle, just outside Brighton. Ken and Leslie took us there. We had a great singsong once - me on guitar accompanying the amateur musical society Ken and Leslie used to hang out with. And lots of wine.

I remember someone's tent catching fire at Buckle. They came in drunk one night and tried to cook something. The first we knew about it was the fire brigade turning up.

I remember going to Buckle for a few days of alcohol-free thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. I started doing an Airfix kit of a skeleton. I must finish it sometime.

I remember doing a three-point turn in a dead-end in Aberfan.

I remember putting up the awning in a storm one night at the Buckle site just before a London to Brighton bike ride. Margaret was huddled inside. Smuggled in and smuggled out. I threw a barbecue party after the bike ride and if I remember correctly Jennifer and Ren stayed in the caravan for a few days.

I remember my sister introducing me to the delights of a glass of red wine with your breakfast.

I remember - last summer - the awning resembling a Glastonbury mud-slide.

I remember Eliot's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sleeping bag - which is now Jake's.

I remember Eliot playing guitar in the awning for a little impromptu session after we got back from the pub on Friday, August 8, 2008. We tried to be as quiet as we could and still enjoy ourselves, going through the old favourites, Goodnight Irene, Dear Doctor, Wild World, Tennessee Stud etc.

I remember taking the caravan away for what must surely be the last time. Not as sunny as I'd have liked, but had a great couple of weeks. In attendance, though not necessarily at the same time, were my grandson Jake (his first time), my brother John, his sons Oliver and Kit and Kit's girlfriend Amy. My son Eliot - all the way from Texas via Croydon and Axminster - and daughter Charlie. My son-in-law Tony and granddaughters Leah and Keira. Guests of honour on their 59th wedding anniversary were my mum and dad. Even Margaret came, though she stayed in a nearby B&B. Apologies were received from my sister Jennifer, the Hicklings and Richard and Sarah.