I ADMIT, for the past couple of years I have been a bit embarrassed when I've told people about our holiday plans.

So how wonderful it was to learn that our chosen destination and type of accommodation is not to be sneered at. In fact it is the number one choice for many celebrities: Helen Mirren, Claire Sweeney, Mark Owen (former member of Take That and winner of Celebrity Big Brother, for those who, like me, are furrowing their brows) as well as Chris Evans and wife Billie Piper.

As a national newspaper reported last week "they are just a few of the big names who are 'coming out' and admitting that they like nothing better than the ease and freedom of a good British caravan holiday."

So I'm coming out too. I am proudly stating that my family -- the children in particular -- love our annual stay in a caravan park on the Yorkshire coast.

In fact, my daughters and their friends, who go with us, would certainly call it the highlight of the year.

I would never have thought it possible that I would enjoy staying in a metal box positioned on a giant field amid hundreds of other metal boxes. All my life I've been brought up to regard them as eyesores. "And in the National Park too," my dad would growl when we occasionally spotted them on cliff walks.

Fair enough the site we visit is not what I would describe as scenic. There are few trees and no view other than identical white boxes.

On our first visit I did feel a little claustrophobic. I wanted to run, to escape, to find open fields, trees and uplifting landscapes.

But after a while I got used to it and after a night out at the entertainment centre watching giant stuffed animals dancing it was a challenge for the children to find their way back.

And though the caravans look identical -- apart from the privately-owned ones with their quaint little rockeries dotted with gnomes -- they are not.

There is, we quickly discovered, a caravan hierarchy. Bronze, silver, gold, platinum, I could go on -- a built-in hairdryer or extra shelf in the kitchen can take you up a notch and make a world of difference.

I stumbled upon caravan holidays by accident. I was lucky enough to be offered a caravan for a weekend, which I then had to write about.

My friend and I went tongue-in-cheek, expecting the site and its goings on to be like a cross between Hi-de-Hi and a Carry On film. We didn't for one moment think we would repeat the experience.

How wrong we were.

We had such a great, relaxing time that we returned the year after, and the one after that...and we are going back again

this summer. We are caravanning old hands now. We expertly put up the strange little clothes drier -- which on our first visit took half an hour to figure out -- and the fold-out double bed which at the first attempt was more taxing than a Rubik cube.

We know exactly what provisions to take and the best times to visit the swimming pool.

Our husbands come too -- but only for one night. Caravans are only so big and anyway we have too good a time flirting with the lifeguards.

So, while the world and his wife are browsing the Sunday supplements, swotting up on cottages in Cornwall, apartments in Alicante, and tents in Tunisia, we are nicely sorted for August with a three berth caravan near Scarborough.

I'm sure by then there will be some new celebrity converts.

I look forward to helping Posh and Becks put up their clothes dryer.

Or maybe Tony and Cherie will need a hand with the bed.