I’m a travel editor and caravan parks are the only holiday I pay for every summer – my favourite beats 5-star resorts

IN my 26 years as The Sun’s Travel Editor I’ve chatted to Virgin’s Richard Branson on the rooftop of his Caribbean island home, watched flamingos soar over the salt flats of Chile’s Atacama desert and ticked off every major European capital, Mediterranean hot spot and US city.

But nothing can beat the moment I step out of the shower block of my South of France campsite on my own family holidays.

Wrapped in a towel, from the block’s elevated position I can gaze through sprawling umbrella pines and swaying palm trees to the Mediterranean sea – the last of the day’s sunlight glinting off the deep blue azure waters.

The day’s salt and sand washed off me, the sun still warming my skin, it’s a special place and a golden time of day. A sense of calm and contentment washes over me.

It’s just one of the reasons why despite the fact I can travel the world for free – I have chosen to pay for my own holiday every year at Camp du Domaine, a 5* campsite right on the beach at Bormes Les Mimosas on the Cote d’Azur.

I was six years old on my first visit with my mum, dad and three sisters – and this July will mark 50 years of returning to the very same spot. 

Of course, my own three kids will be there – even though they are now adults with partners and grown-up jobs of their own.

So will my 80-year-old Mum. 

And also the many friends – English, French, Dutch, Swiss and German – I have known since I was a child.

We first rocked up at Camp du Domaine – towing our tiny Sprite caravan – back in 1975 after mum and dad rejected the crazily cramped campsite near Saint Tropez they had originally booked.

Camp du Domaine was just over half an hour along the coast towards Toulon, a laid back wild and wonderful campsite that tumbled down pine-forested hills from a grand old chateau to the broad, soft sand beach.

Back then, it was a rough and rustic park with pitches set higgledy-piggley on pine needle-covered terraces. 

Caravans were parked up right on the beach – or set behind dunes thickly carpeted with ice plants – a succulent that thrives in the sands.

For us kids, it was paradise. We had freedom never granted on our suburban streets back home and relished little responsibilities like heading to the campsite shop for freshly-baked baguettes each morning.

Facilities back then were nothing more than a small shop, bazaar for camping essentials, bar and restaurant.

The restaurant served just two dishes – crispy-skinned roast chicken or spicy merguez sausages – alongside groaning platters of freshly-fried frites.

When it came to having a family of my own, it was a no brainer.

With three kids in tow, the savings you could make in school summer holidays by having our own caravan were substantial and meant we could return each year without breaking the bank.

My kids grew up learning to swim in the calm, shallow waters of the campsite’s beach. They built elaborate sandcastles with the children of the friends I’d made when I was young.

As they grew, the gaggle of kids would roam from one pal’s pitch to another – the parents keeping a careful eye but giving them the same freedom we had as children.

Over the years, our days have remained the same.

For someone who spends all her life travelling for work – always on the go and always busy – this is my perfect, relaxing home from home

Lazy breakfasts, trips to the beach, a stroll into the local market to pick up ingredients for dinner, a cheeky glass of wine as the sun sets on the beach and relaxed dinners with family and friends that stretch long into the night.

‘Priceless’

Don’t get me wrong. We’ve ticked off all the sights. With a network of locals in the know we are savvy about the best restaurants in the little seaside commune of La Faviere and the hilltop medieval village of Bormes with its narrow, flower-filled alleys and art galleries.

We’ve taken endless trips to the vineyards that pepper this special part of Provence – picking up delicious, pale pink rose for a fraction of the price back home.

And we’ve explored the islands just off the coast – Port Cros and Porquerolles.

An easy ferry-ride from the mainland they offer a perfect microcosm of the best of the south of France – without the crowds you’ll see on the pricey, celeb-stuffed streets of Saint Tropez and Monaco.

But for someone who spends all her life travelling for work – always on the go and always busy – this is my perfect, relaxing home from home.

Over the years, we’ve edged ever closer to the front of the campsite, switching our pitches every few years. Now we have two weeks right on the beach – a fortnight of barefoot relaxation right next to the sea.

And as the years have flown, so the campsite has grown. Where once tents covered the hillsides, bright and modern bungalows have been built with wooden decks to take advantage of those stunning views.

Some pitches now come with their own private bathroom and kitchen lodges so you can have the best of both worlds – your own tent or caravan alongside the facilities you’d expect in an apartment.

Facilities have moved with the times too. There’s a superb spa with sauna, hamman, beauty treatments and hair salon with a serene zen garden.

And the tennis club has courts, children’s playgrounds and a buzzing bar and restaurant with nightly entertainment.

All this does come at a price. My pitch right on the beach now costs around £100 a night in peak season but that includes the caravan and as many as eight people. Off-season rates start from just £45 a night.

But the view from my sun lounger as I soak up yet another glorious sunset alongside friends and family? That’s priceless.