Caravans, Candy Crush and Eurovision

This morning, As part of my recently alarming descent in an early midlife crisis I decided to go fishing, But not to catch fish, More for the peace and quiet and tranquillity of the rolling sea.That and the fact I'm quite willing to do a 'Reggie Perrin'. On my way to the fishing spot I have to walk through a caravan park, Which got me thinking, Why on gods earth would anyone want to stay in a bloody caravan ? I spent the four and a half hours I was fishing trying to think of one good reason, and I just couldn't.
For those of you not familiar with the whole principle of caravaning, I'll give you a short explanation. Firstly you need to buy a caravan, You have two choices, either one with wheels, which means you can take your holiday home with you when you visit the same place every year, Or a static, Which means you cannot. Either way you will have to spend an outrageously large sum of money, for lets face it, One room full of beige velour fabric and toilet you have to empty yourself.
Then you have to decide where you want to put your caravan, Because even if you buy one with wheels, you will inevitably end up going back to the same place every year. Where you choose to go is up to you, However according to the 'Happy Camper' magazine it is common to go somewhere very similar to where you live but with a slightly poorer climate. May I suggest Ulrome.
Then you have to decide which caravan site you wish to stay at, In most seaside towns Many semi entrepreneurial local people will have bought a few acres and stuck a few toilet blocks on them. Some parks cost more than others, the 'Bargain' parks are basically a field, a wooden shack with filthy toilet facilities and quite near a train line. The 'Expensive' parks are pretty much the same, but they have a small, overpriced newsagents on them. 
Then you have to decide what you are going to do when you've arrived. Most Caravanist's spend the first hour of their holiday wondering just why the several miles of drivers behind them were getting all 'Het up'. after that it's entirely up to you, But you will have to empty your own feces, shower with other people in disgusting toilet blocks, wash up and cook your own food. In between all that though, you can have much fun, sat on a fold up chair reading the daily mail with a drooping testicle hanging from beneath your beige shorts seems to be the 'In thing' with caravaners at the moment. Be warned though, Most caravan parks will not allow you to do certain things, Ball games, BBQ's, running, music, laughing, smiling etc.
It really isn't a holiday is it, Not when, for less money, and for less hassle you can stay in a hotel, have your food cooked, and shower in a warm, clean environment without having to worry that a middle aged, large, balding bloke is constantly staring at your John Thomas.
As I mentioned at the start of my post I'm entering a midlife crisis, Which means I'm either going to die at 42 or I'm an advanced developer, Either way, one of the causing factors to my mental imbalance seems to stem from my mobile phone. 2 years ago I knew exactly what my phone wanted, If it made a continuous noise someone was calling, so I could ignore them, If it made a one off noise someone was texting, So I could ignore them as well. And if it made an occasional beep it meant the battery was low, So I could charge my phone so I could ignore everyone. But nowadays I'm never sure. If my phone beeps now It could be a call (unlikely) a text (Unlikely) battery (likely) a friends request, a re tweet, a new follower, a life on candy crush, a sheep on farmville an Email or something to tell me that my burgers are ready on cafe world. And I mean, How am I meant to prepare for that, How can I open my phone and expect to have to harvest crops but then end up having to talk to someone? There really is no wonder I'm going crazy.
One good thing about this week was the Eurovision neighbour song contest, In which we (Great Britain) didn't do well, but we did better than last time so we did do well, If you follow me. Basically we entered a once respectable singer to sing a naff song and ruined what was left of her waining career. One thing that did strike me though is when the votes were read out from the various countries all the presenters were stood next to rivers, presumably so they could jump in after being forced to watch some Estonian sing a song no one could understand.
Next year we should just let a load of pissed up Geordie's sing 'Coming Home Newcastle' just so we could see the population of Belarus try and figure out what 'Ahm coming home Newcastle,Ye can keep ye London wine,Ahd walk the streets al day al neet,For ay bottle ay the River Tyne,' means.