I TOOK myself off to Highland Perthshire this month. It was a short break booked almost two years ago and then subsequently cancelled/postponed/rearranged more times than the infamous late 1980s rumble between Frank Bruno and Mike Tyson.

We had originally paid for a woodland lodge, then, with the myriad shenanigans due to travel restrictions and lockdowns, getting our desired dates meant swapping the cabin for a static caravan.

When this option was outlined by the lady on the telephone, I snapped it up without hesitation. I would have done likewise if she'd suggested staying in a rickety garden shed with sleeping bags on a cold stone floor and a bucket that doubled as a loo, while also catching drips from a leaky roof.

Static caravans were a staple of my childhood holidays. I was 22 before I went abroad for the first time (a weekend to Barcelona won in a magazine competition) so, it was almost like the circle of life. We all end up back at the beginning.

READ MORE: Susan Swarbrick's Week: Hallowe'en obsessed? My house looks like it is auditioning for a Tim Burton movie

After years spent jaunting around the globe – Australia, South Africa, Canada, Taiwan, Zambia, Ukraine – I have been oddly fixated on exploring Scotland since I hit my forties. And that was before the arrival of Covid-19 clipped all our wings.

BC – before coronavirus – I tackled choosing holiday digs with the diva-like verve of an egocentric rock star penning a demanding dressing room rider, in my case Googling "luxury", "welcome hamper", "Egyptian cotton sheets", "rainforest shower" and such like.

But there is nothing like a pandemic to gain a bit of much-needed perspective about my skewed ideas on what constitutes creature comforts. A static caravan it was. The four of us – me, my husband, my mother and the dog – packed up the car and drove north.

Caravans have come a long way since my younger days when I can recall chittering with cold even in June. They have radiators now. The one we stayed in also had a small fireplace. Other surprises included a fenced wooden deck with a ramp (no shoogly metal steps here).

The Herald: Enjoying the autumn colours at Loch Faskally in Perthshire. Picture: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty ImagesEnjoying the autumn colours at Loch Faskally in Perthshire. Picture: Jeff J Mitchell/Getty Images

Modern caravans are undeniably far roomier yet, ultimately, still have to pack a lot into a relatively small area. If I hadn't already been contemplating losing some weight, attempting to shower would have undoubtedly provided the much-needed impetus.

It was a tight squeeze. To get in and out the cubicle involved having to half-slither, half-contort my frame as there was insufficient space for bosom and backside to pass through the narrow gap between the sliding doors at the same time.

Fat-shaming aside – joke – we had a grand old weekend tramping through Faskally Woods, drinking hot chocolate after visiting The Soldier's Leap at Killiecrankie and spending all my pocket money at the second-hand bookshop in Pitlochry. The autumn colours were incredible.

READ MORE: Susan Swarbrick's Week: Hangover truths and harsh lessons on the scales

The thing I enjoyed most, though, was the cosy vibe of our lodgings. It felt like we were properly spending time together. Even when at opposite ends of the caravan. I would do it again.

Our columns are a platform for writers to express their opinions. They do not necessarily represent the views of The Herald

HOW TO BECOME A HERALD SUBSCRIBER

For just £2 for two months, you can instantly read your favourite writers including Susan Swarbrick, Teddy Jamieson, Alison Rowat, Mark Smith, Vicky Allan, Russell Leadbetter and Barry Didcock, as well as Ron Mackenna, Rab McNeil, and the (in)famous Herald Diary.

Subscribe to The Herald and don't miss a single word from your favourite writers by clicking here