I've just returned from a holiday. Unfortunately, due to the cost-of-living crisis, it was a camping holiday. Yes, my husband and I spent two weeks in a caravan park with Miss 12 and his parents to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary.

And I've discovered that caravan parks have changed. They used to be fun, loud places, populated by families on a budget creating memories with cheap snags and a tent. Now, most days Miss 12 found herself on the jumping pillow alone because the grey nomads have taken over. And a whole new set of rules has emerged. Take note.

1. Caravan standards. Tents are a thing of the past. You must own a new caravan, and it must be white and larger than the van to your right. Black trim is permitted. A solitary stripe of dark red may run down the side, provided it serves no practical purpose.

2. Approved tow vehicle. Your vehicle must actively damage the environment, cost more than your children's house, be white, black or silver and be a large SUV that requires three attempts to fit in a supermarket spot.

3. Mandatory straw hats. A minimum of TWO straw hats must be visible inside your vehicle at all times. Acceptable locations include the dashboard, back seat or, inexplicably, on your head whilst driving.

4. You MUST own a small, predominantly white dog that yaps at everything. This dog is to be placed in a makeshift fenced area to the left of your obnoxious camping chair circle. The dog MUST be named Clarence, Daisy or Persephone. When Persephone begins barking hysterically at the impoverished-looking tent family walking to the pool, you must look in her direction and say, "Persephone, no." You are under no circumstances permitted to rise from your luxury camp chair.

5. You must holiday at the beach, but you must never go swimming. The pool must remain unused by adults and the ocean is only for walking beside on your morning constitutional stroll, while wearing your straw hat. The beach is purely decorative. The only exception is:

6. Fishing. You are permitted to fish in the ocean, provided you own an extra-wide-brimmed straw hat that wasn't bought at Bunnings. You must also wear a long-sleeved shirt bought from BCF with inspirational quotes embroidered onto one of its many superfluous pockets, and the silhouette of a fish you've never actually caught. Those dressed in Kmart clothes will be denied access to the break wall. No matter how terrible your catch, you MUST cook it for dinner. The oldest gentleman of the group is responsible for deboning the fish, as always, and it must be cooked on the special George Foreman grill you have placed outside to strategically stink out the entire caravan park. As you watch the people around the table almost choke to death on the bones you failed to remove, you MUST mutter, "Mmmm. That's a good eating fish," despite secretly wishing it was Birds Eye fish fingers.

7. Each caravan MUST be equipped with both a toilet and shower. NEITHER must ever be used. You are now unable to fit into the ensuite spots at the park, so you are forced to use the communal amenities. This is FINE, and it's what you've always wanted anyway.

8. Each caravan must also be equipped with an oversized antenna. This must be white, on a silver pole, and at least two-thirds the height of your already oversized caravan. It MUST be pointed in the opposite direction to the van to your left, and you MUST mutter loudly about that idiot's crap reception. After all, watching all your regular TV shows is the point of travelling Australia.

9. Boats. This is the ONLY downfall to caravanning — leaving your boat at home. You purchased said boat upon retirement and have taken it out of dry dock seven times in the past 11 years. However, your boat is FAR superior to any of the boats in the park, and you MUST mention that loudly while walking Persephone past them at dawn and dusk.

10. Memories. NO new memories are to be made. The whole point of the obnoxious camp chair circle is to reminisce about holidays past. This year's trip won't be talked about for at least a decade.