Boulogne, Thursday 4th November: A nice quiet night, being just us on the campsite, and the rain having stopped – we heard it went to England! Lovely golden sunrise and a pleasant settting.

Where am I?

 In your own little pitch, just behind where SHE’s standing.* You’re probably still asleep.

 Et pourquoi non, après tout?

Not now ! ….. After a call to the Caravan Club Travel Service, a decision was taken to go for a Channel crossing from Dunkirk tomorrow at 2pm. So there was some distance to go today. Only some water-jobs were possible before leaving since all the exterior taps on the site had been turned off as last week they’d already had temperatures down to –5°C! Difficult to believe today.

Soon after moving off – 11.45 as usual – we stopped for HER to take this view of the location – the campsite is just beyond the building in the picture.

You can also see the mistletoe in the trees.

Then there was a shopping stop in the first town we came to before we really began to cover the kilometres. Minor roads at first, but long straight stretches between avenues of autumnal trees:

We joined a section of free motorway just before Rouen, and THEY had lunch in a lay-by while I had a rest, and then on through Rouen, crossing the Seine 3 times because of its meander:

Rouen was slow, as always, but it’s been worse.

White cliffs? Of Rouen? Yes and the amazing thing is that once you emerge from the tunnel which goes through them, there’s no more city, no more congestion and free motorway until Abbeville – HE let HER drive that bit!

And so to Boulogne. They were going to go to McD’s for supper, but finding LeClerc, with a filling station, McD’s and a Flunch all on one site, and that Flunch also had free WiFi, they decided to eat there instead. Very nice too, apparently. And YOU all got three postcards in one evening, you lucky people!

Hands up if you remember what happened in Boulogne a month ago (nearly) …. The Aire de Camping Cars certainly isnt easy to find! But they did avoid dead ends and having to uncouple this time – just one manageable U-turn. Last time, having got here, they moved off again because the wind was so strong; this time, we’re here for the night and with just an hour and a half to go tomorrow, all should be well. We  did 332 kms today – 4 more than the last 2 days added together. Let’s hope the wind doesn’t get up …

ANOTHER COMPITISHUN! (It’s the keyboard!) One of the purchases during the visit to La Rhuna was this:

What is it?

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Near Blois, Loire Valley, (Near Vouvray; there’s hope for someone yet!) Thursday morning 3^rd November: HE kept HER awake for much of the night with that problem which they hoped had been fixed, so an early start yesterday was not really an option. Anyway, Futuriste is reputed to have the best croissants anywhere, so that’s what THEY enjoyed for breakfast; and readers of last year’s ‘Travels With Harry’ might remember something about the excellence of the showers!

When ready to move we were able to manoeuvre over the drainage point – still with little wotsit behind –

Hey! Sois gentil!

Toujours! – so that we set off (11.40) with a full tank of fresh water and an empty waste tank. (Also an empty toilet, and whose job was that?) Hmmm …

North towards Tours, passing, but not stopping at ‘Antoines’ where I got my new ‘cheek’ last year –

So why didn’t you get a new tail light assembly this year?

Got to get THEM to a wedding.

Ca alors! Are they getting married?

Not THEM, Dumkopf!

Before Tours we got lucky and they had lunch in this perfectly delightful lay-by:

Where the only drawback was the breeze which kept trying to add some of those lovely autumn leaves and twiggy bits to their salad! Not as bad as the previous day, though, when a HUGE, heavy pine cone came down from a great height and missed HIS head by a few inches before hitting the ground at his feet with a mighty THUD! The consequences of a ‘strike’ could have been far-reaching …

However, here HE is, enjoying a little schoolboy with his coffee:

You can’t say that and put it on the internet! Explanation essential: “Petit Ecolier”, literally ‘Little Schoolboy’ is a very popular brand of chocolate-coated biscuit and we are never without them. There’s an image of a period-costumed (17^th/18^th century) schoolboy stamped in the chocolate on each biscuit. Carry on.

I will, but not till later in the day …

We used 0.90c worth of motorway to get through Tours and over the Loire:

THAT has much less water in it than when we crossed it last year – both ways! But then last October was particularly soggy! I seemed to hear some debate – discussion – disagreement, even, about where to go next, but somehow we found ourselves following the river upstream to a spot I’d heard of called Vouvray …

I was there last year! I remember; we went there while you were having your cheek done – they stopped at the same place, and came out with some heavy stuff which I had to carry. Déjà vu all over again!

Y e s … Then  they crossed the river to find a LeClerc and did some shopping, and carried on up river in the fading light, which is why there are no photos of the splendid view of Château d’Amboise across the river. This far north parking for the night is difficult – it was last year – it seemed the best thing to do was to pay for a short stretch of motorway and find an aire (service area). This was the plan, then. But at Blois-Ménars both the lorry and caravan parks were so full of lorries that finding a space seemed impossible; then as we approached the exit, a little additional parking area had a few empty spaces on the drive-in / drive-out pattern and we chose the last one. A 3 or 4 minute walk back to the shop + café found they had wi_fi! 2 coffees and a cookie and SHE settled down to a puzzle while HE looked at e-mails and just managed to get one off to Family + Friends before battery power ran out! Which is why ‘Postcard 13 arrived in 2 parts.

LeClerc had been good enough to provide a supper of Blanquette de Veau (sorry if that upsets anyone) and in spite of fairly constant traffic noise and the inevitable mass exodus of lorries at 10 past 5, 10 past 6, 10 past 7 … they had quite a good night – BUT by morning (Thurs. 3^rd) it was RAINING. Hopes that rain before 7 might mean fine before 11 proved vain and the RAIN continued for most of the day with occasional claps of thunder into the bargain and the onboard barometer showing its lowest reading EVER!

Still, the scenery was pleasant

 and there were some pretty little towns

as we made our way 153kms northwards to a campsite in the valley of the Perche, where we are installed as the only visitors. HE has cooked his special ‘Quail and Parsnips’ (there were no parsnips to be found last month!) and followed it with a bit of very silly culinary exhibitionism – Bananes Flambées à l’Armagnac – I know we’ve got a fire extinguisher above the door, but really …    

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THE JOURNEY HOME. (What’s that in Klingon? Somebody ask Google Translate – I’ve no internet connection – I’d trust their Klingon at least as well as their French!)

Tuesday 1^st November: With the caravans separated from the lorries, that would have been a quiet night, but for the thunderstorm at about 2am! The lay-by is probably unfinished and by next summer there will be lots of picnic tables among these trees, THEY think:

This turned out to be one of the longest travelling days so far – 279 kms in total. Moving north on the N10, after an elevenses break SHE took over the driving …

 … thinking it was still going to be easy! However, we were already quite close to Bordeaux, so she had to negociate the Bordeaux ring road. After a navigational error by HIM (What a mistaika to maika!) when he overruled SATNAV and caused us to miss the exit from the ring, a change of drivers was thought best to effect a turn around and get us back onto the right road!

After crossing the Garonne:

 And then the Dordogne:

We tried to find somewhere to park for lunch. I’ll let HIM explain; Get the date! It’s Nov.1^st. Toussaint. (All Saints) A public holiday in France and by law the trucks are not allowed to move. Some were moving, but they were foreign, or carrying fresh foodstuff as far as we could make out. But every parking space on every service area or layby and many spaces not officially designated were jam packed with trucks parked up for the day; drivers were sat around chatting, or doing housekeeping jobs, vacuuming cabs etc.

So finding space for our little combination wasn’t easy, though travelling was! Note not only that on a public holiday trucks MAY NOT move, but that the holiday occurs on the given date, regardless of day of the week, none of this “every holiday must be a Monday” stuff. Better or worse? Discuss. If you want. Or not. Thank you, Harry.

You’re welcome!  Moving northwards (on the N10) the scenery gradually changed from the pine forests of the Landes to the more typically French, and frankly more picturesque lines of plane trees which are currently strikingly autumnal. SHE was taking a snap a minute! I don’t think it’s more picturesque – colouful, if you like, but I like the pines. That was HER!

 Our target was  Poitiers and the ‘Futuriste’ caravan park where we spent 2 weeks last year. Not certain whether reception would be open and access allowed after 6pm, fears were soon dissolved by a warm welcome and the offer of a corner pitch where uncoupling wouldn’t be necessary. Moreover, the swimming pool, under reconstruction last year, was open till 7.30, so an unexpected bonus for them was a swim in very warm water, floodlit from beneath, dark outside, except for the lights of ‘Futuroscope’ in the distance.

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Monday 31^st October: THE LAST DAY: We were all ready to move – surprising how many jobs there were still to do – by 11.30 –

Oi – oi! Who said you could take over?

They’re my postcards, and I’m on the road again.

Big bully!

Tais-toi, petite crevette!

Crevette ! CREVETTE ? Who are you calling a little shrimp, you big, battered –

Do you want to go home or not?

It’s going to be a long way with nothing to look at but your back end – which is not a pretty sight just now.

That was HIS fault.

We didn’t go far – just over the road to the nearest picnic site for a planning meeting. The need to shop seemed urgent but Intermarché in Labenne is closed at lunch time so we headed for Leclerc at Capbreton. Then lunch in a lovely picnic area that they had seen last week when out with my little friend, and since the weather was again as predicted, meaning an exceptionally warm afternoon, we made for the nearest beach, not far from the ‘ghost village’ described in an earlier ‘postcard’. We were lucky to find a large, almost empty carpark without height limiters where we parked easily and THEY went for a last laze on the sand. HE did go into the water, but didn’t tackle the waves – those rollers were BIG! He came back muttering something about discretion and valour – I didn’t get it …

The final view of the Atlantic as they came off the beach:

 

Then we drove a fantastic 57kms to a simple service area  – a big lay-by, really, – off the N10, where caravan parking was well designed (drive in – drive out) and separated from the lorries by a 3.2m height limiter, where we parked up for the night. While shopping at LeClerc they had bought some Merlu à la Basquaise  which they enjoyed as a farewell to the Pays Basque (for now).

Merlu is a fish but we don’t know which one – and we’re not going to ask Google Translate – they’ll probably tell us it’s a wizard! And as for basquaise, don’t go there!

Now here’s a surprise; of all the unlikely places, on the wall above the basins in the shared area of the ‘acceptable’ loo block in that lay-by was an Esperanto sticker! No contact details, just a sticker with the green star and the words ESPERANTO, LINGVO INTERNACIA. Nobody speaks it, of course; everybody speaks English. Where are my memories?

Today (Sunday 30th) has gone pretty well to plan, with the weather as forecast which has helped; sunny intervals between light clouds. First job, declutter the the awning and pack away the cupboards:

C A R E F U L L Y fold the tent

and  place it in its stuff sack (why is it called a stuff sack if you don’t just STUFF it?!) Get lost and do as you’re told!

That done and the poles also in their bag, and only a little later than planned – ie 6pm (clocks went back an hour here, too) we went to the sea side, just too late to see the sun go down, but the Atlantic rollers were magnificent as the sky coloured up.

Back at base, they enjoyed an apéritif sitting outside (30^th October!) under the roll-out awning, with a crescent moon shining thru the trees, before going in for a cassoulet au confit de canard ( from a tin, – and why not?).

It’s not fair! Why are these postings called “Postcards from Harry” when I’m doing half of them?

 Wha’ever …

Grumpy old box!

Oi … with age comes wisdom.

Not in your case.

I’m not much older than you anyway … and I’m only grumpy cos you keep waking me up!

Si tu veux …

Labenne, Sunday 30th October. We’re still here! THEY are hoping that the weather forecast is accurate and today they’ll be able to pack up a dry awning. Besides, they had a special excursion planned for yesterday.

They’d seen some posters and leaflets about ‘La Rhuna’ and the little train to the top of the mountain – 905m. (Scafell Pike 978m), so they found the station at the top of a road pass and picnicked beside the car park.

The train ride was quite exciting (they say) with some very steep gradients,

 but the cloud cover lingered all afternoon and they never got to see the splendid panorama as on the publicity. (Google ‘La Rhuna’ and follow any thread, especially “images …”) (Actually, some of the photos on the web are not very different from some of mine – apart from the blue skies! SKT)

At the top trains came and went…

 …while they hung around hoping the cloud would lift, which it kept appearing to do, very briefly, then it closed in again. They had a coffee and browsed the gift shops – bought some gifts, too.

However at 5pm they decided to board the second-last train and by queueing in good time they were able to choose a good place on the train for the ride down. The views were better on the way down as the skies cleared,

 and, of course, as they drove down towards the coast, there was the sight of La Rhuna’s summit completely free of cloud! (That’s life, init?)

On the coast, another slight disappointment, or error of judgement; they made for Hendaye (the last town in France) hoping to see the sun go down over and into the sea. A really careful look at the map will show that Hendaye actually faces north with a fairly high promontory to the west, so the sun went down behind the hills and not into the sea at all! Silly Daddy!

Still, after looking at several options, they chose a sea-side restaurant and enjoyed pizzas to rival a certain Italian restaurant in Bowness, well known to some readers. His was a delicious selection of fish and seafood, with extra prawns (big ones, shell-on, messy!) instead of olives.

The drive ‘home’ was a bit expensive because of the use of the motorway – HE refused to ‘do’ Bayonne in the dark!

Labenne, Friday 28th October : Yesterday was a rest day for all of us.  HE prepared one of his hearty soups for lunch (that’s using up several day’s leftovers) and eventually they went shopping. He bought a micro-card for that new, cheap camera and immediately tried it out:

That’s me!

Then they went to the campsite next door to use the pool, but it was rather disappointing, coming out very badly by comparison with that excellent spot at La Brande. Changing facilities were limited, well, missing really. One fairly large, fortunately clean, WC where the lock didn’t work! As at La Brande, shoes were to be removed before entering the pool surround, but unlike at La Brande there was nowhere to sit while putting them back on! Still, they did have a laugh at some of the funny English (more later) at the entrance. I don’t think they’ll be going again.

Supper was another repeat of a dish discovered last year – little fillets of red mullet prepared in white wine with garlic and shallots. Then they watched ‘Gremlins’!! (Bright lights? “Trop clair! Trop clair!)

 

Today it’s been RAINING! They did take me out after lunch to go to a motorhome centre they’d spotted the other day, hoping to replace the shower head for dozy Harry –

Attention! – J’écoute!

Oo! tu parles français maintenant?

 Aussi bien que toi.

Granda skatola^co!

That’s just showing off! And if you want to get back to England, behave yourself.

Rendors-toi …

 

a shower head for Harry which got damaged in last year’s freeze-up. No luck. “Jamais vu de pareil” ( never seen anything like it). After a bit of a drive around and looking at a beach, they shopped at LeClerc and came ‘home’.

No photos today, so here’s a butterfly:

(One day on Oléron we stopped for tea at a picnic site and there were loads of these basking on the low-growing plants. Does anyone know what it is? The photo here is probably not the butterfly seen on Oleron, that photo seems to have gone missing!)

 

Linguistic Footnote from HIM: We have, of course, been keeping an eye on weird bits of English which come our way. “Bricks may be placed in the rubbishes with the plastics” – that was last year. Sometimes we amuse ourselves by deliberately speaking bad, heavily accented French; so one morning a bit back I said “Oo sont les pantalons de mon track suit?” (pronouncing all the silent letters). Then we wondered what an online translator would make of that question, so we went to Google Translate.  The actual French is ‘Où est le pantalon de mon jogging ?’ but the translator gave us ‘où sont les pantalons de mon survêtement?’ (= where are the (pairs of) trousers of my outer garment?). Attempts to get a better result using the word ‘bottoms’ only made it worse! ‘Where are my pants?’ was translated as if American, but again with the very basic mistake of using the plural – where are (all my) trousers. ‘Underpants’ became ‘sousvêtement’ which is any undergarment, whereas ‘where are my briefs?’ gave us the French for ‘Where are my memories?’, which has become the quote of the month. The French should be ‘Où est mon slip?’ so just out of curiousity we tried ‘where is my slip?’ just in case some lady ever loses her underskirt in the wash. The French appeared with the equivalent of ‘where is my little piece of paper?’

 

There is a serious point to this: some people believe that machine translation is the way ahead to save huge sums being spent on language services at, eg, the UN and EU. With results like that, what do you think? As Carol says, that sort of thing could start world war three …

 

Now, here’s a challenge: that notice outside the swimming pool, three separate sheets, three languages. The English was headed like this:

 

          SOUND WARNINGS

          (Led (driven) to like in case of )

 

…. And lower down – this is a safety notice – on hearing three whistles:

 

          Immediate evacuation.

          Ponds and beaches (ranges)

          (Leave your spot business (affairs) you will get them back at the end of the intervention)

 

A bottle of wine is offered to whoever comes up with the best (in our view) version of what the English in the italicised lines above SHOULD say (it must come close) and TWO bottles (WOW!) to anyone who can work out the original French  – that’s a real challenge, I couldn’t do it,  – had to look at the top sheet of paper, the one in French.

Closing date for the competetion, 19th November!

Hello, Hello! It’s me again! Bonjour! C’est moi, la petite Sally! Saluton, estas mi denove! Big Harry’s gone to sleep for a week, so I can say what I like

No, you can’t; I sleep with one eye open.

M*rde! Oops – sorry- it’s this new keyboard!

Sqturday – it’s done it again! – when HE came back from shopping, THEY had a supper of ‘Cabillaud Mornay à la Harry’, which is some sort of fish in cheese sauce cooked in Harry. It might have been cod, or hallibut, or not.

Sunday was possibly the last day of summer, but it got so late before they were ready to go out that they had lunch here at the campsite:

They opened the front of Harriette for the first time ever and enjoyed their meal there. The guide book said the beach was only 900meters away, so they left us BOTH here and went to look for it on foot.

Apparently, it seemed longer! But then, across a sand dune from the carpark – so they could have taken ME! – there was this beach with miles of sand from somewhere up in the north (probably Arcachon) all the way to Biarritz and the Pyrenees. 

 They set up their beach shelter beside another grafiti’d former gun emplacement:

and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon. Strictly speaking bathing isn’t allowed, but HE played with the waves for a while and even SHE had a brief dip. Then just as they might have been able to photograph a good sunset, a bank of cloud came up – as forecast – and hid it! 

Back here, they enjoyed one of HIS ‘specialités’, steak with mushroom sauce, then overnight – as forecast – it began to rain …

Labenne, Sunday 23^rd October. Journey’s end! This is as far as we go; it’s on the Atlantic, just north of Bayonne, so only a few minutes from Spain. THEY are not sure whether we’re in the Pays Basque or not quite, but they will certainly pop down there with Sally one day soon, if only to fill her up with fuel which, hopefully, is cheaper in Spain! 

So, back to the second day in Arcachon, No noise from that big caravan next door, and a very fine, but not warm day. Carol did some washing, while he worked on postcard 8 (which has been a real challenge) until the internet connection disappeared at exactly 12 noon! Nothing could be done about that, (because at exactly the same time, reception closed!) so they had a scrambled egg lunch before going through the town to get the 2pm excursion by boat  out on the ‘Bassin’.

Yes, that boat. The circuit concentrated first on the ‘Ile Aux Oiseaux’ and then on the villages on the far side of the ‘bassin’ where oyster farming  shares the landscape with some very fine villas and yachts.

On the way back to Arcachon, they could see THE DUNE and the skipper made reference to it in his commentary, which was thorough but very fast and even their much-praised French couldn’t take it all in.

After the 2-hour trip they hurried back to the campsite to see what had happened to the wi-fi (pronounced wee-fee, remember!) for which HE had paid e12. Oh yes, a chap was there at that time, doing something and he probably knocked out your connection and invalidated your user name and password. But they did give us qnother 20 hours, more than we could possibly use, without further charge. Having securred that. They went shopping and came back for a supper of quail – another remembered recipe from last year.

Later that evening disaster struck the ongoing production of these postcards – working on postcard 8, HE knocked a half glass of rosé over the computer’s keyboard. What a waste! The computer ‘died’ instantly, and, panicking, he phoned Rachel (his IT advisor, oh, yes, daughter as well). She advised use of a hairdryer. Problem there – it blows fuses! He left it inverted overnight in front of a heating vent.

Well, it was a bit better in the morning, but q section of the keyboard wouldn’t work, certain keys were ‘dead (like @ and delete) qnd others were producing strange results like ‘5’ producing ‘g5g’!

 

It was a travelling day. Nothing to do but pack up and get on the road ….

So here we are. On an almost deserted campsite, 20 minutes walk from the beach,

and although the pool here is closed, they have permission to use the one at the next site, which is covered and heated (the pool, not the site!).

 

On arrival, they attached the awning (‘Harriette’) and while SHE carried on pegging out and organising HE was allowed to go shopping ON HIS OWN! Guess what? He bought a wirelessly operated keyboard for the computer! Now here’s a thing: it’s a French keyboard, right? But everything comes up as on an English one! Strike ‘a’ and you get ‘q’ etc. Numbers, in upper case on a French typewriter and keyboard, are in lower case, and the accented letters don’t appear at all! Can anyone explain this?

 

Qnyway (never mind!) THEY’ve booked in for a week, so I’ll be having a good long rest before what’s going to be a long pull home!

Maybe I’ll let little Sally write a few more cards, she’ll be doing the running around after all – and going to Spain!   

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foreword from HIM: don’tbe too concerned for us when reading the first part of Harry’s ‘postcard’ – it gets better!

Arcachon, Friday, 21st October: THEY felt quite chuffed when it rained overnight Tuesday/Wednesday because they had spent the day packing up and stuffing the awning into its bag while it was dry (sorry, carefully folding it and skilfully placing it in its valise; Carol insists on that, HE’d just stuff it!) Actually, they had a fairly lazy morning, then used up a quantity of leftovers in a hearty soup before getting on with the work. All done, they had time for a final dip in that excellent pool:

Then a ‘classic’ 3-tin meal.

In spite of all the work the day before, they STILL didn’t get on the road before midday! Crossing the ‘viaduc’, they stopped at the first hypermarché for supplies, where a very nice lady at the deli counter offered to remove the mussels from the paella for them (Carol’s allergic) – actually she left two in for HIM!, then stopped again for lunch, so the 237 kilometres to Arcachon still took till 6.30pm. However, they had phoned ahead so that the out of hours ‘gardien’ was able (though at first unwilling – he wanted us to park up on the overnight parking area, till he understood the difficulty of manoeuvring) to let us in.

At first they thought the move seemed to have been a bad one, and campsite for campsite, it was.

 Pitches are small and cramped together, the site is severely sloping (might be difficult getting out) and, although they knew the pool was outdoors, they did expect it to be open, based on the info in the guide book. But it’s empty (of water) and closed. Late night and early morning (pre 7am) conversation in loud voices from the large nearby caravan (probably occupied by workers of some sort) didn’t help, nor did being unable to connect to the wi-fi before paying for it next morning. Decision was taken – over the paella – not to put the awning up, but to move on after 3 nights. 

 Friday, 21^st October: However, it got better! Arcachon is well worth a visit. (Google Arcachon or go straight to : Images correspondant à Arcachon ) Yesterday they left me here and set off to explore, first trying to find a bank where they might get some euros from their Caxton card, for which he’s forgotten the PIN. No chance! Then they parked up between two of Arcachon’s beaches, newly raked – or ‘dragged’ – and picnicked beside the sea wall.

Excursions were leaving from the nearby jetty and enquiries led to the decision to return on Friday for a trip round the ‘Ile aux Oiseaux’.

Then they decided to drive to the ‘Dune du Pyla’ – the highest sand dune in Europe. (Google ‘Dune du Plya’ and follow whichever thread appeals.)

  Are we going up there? Yes, get on with it!

The view from the 100th step (out of 160).

160! You think you’re at the top? Think again:

 

First reward for effort: the views!

 

You can see how the dune is moving inland and eating up the forest: 

For the descent, some chose the hard way (down the steps), others preferred the quick way down:

 

Second reward for effort: a crêpe or a gauffre:

Bon appétit!

After a visit to a hypermarché on the way back, they enjoyed a supper of liver in red wine – a dish remembered from last year and enjoyed again. There seemed to be no occupation of the big caravan next pitch , so a quieter night was also welcomed – but a cold one!

Footnote from HIM: We could have bought a ‘real’ postcard with a picture of footprints in the sand and the caption “On a marché sur la dune”, But that would have been silly, wouldn’t it?

 

Monday, 17^th October: Me again! – Big Harry’s gone to sleep! First stop, shop. Then they drove to the south of the island and found another forest picnic site right beside the sea.

The sea was calmer here so no waves to play with and at first it was a long way away, but the tide came in during the afternoon.

Later they went round past the ‘viaduc’ and watched the sunset from the harbour wall at Chateau D’Oleron. 

An earlier attempt to photo the sunset (while HE was cooking) produced this picture: 

 

The sun is reflected in the window and the silhouette is Carol’s shadow on the outside, not some strange activity going on inside!

 

 

THEY say the toilet block is worth a comment! It’s a unisex Palace of Ablution, where each cubicle contains both a shower and a basin. Sounds fine, but the shower wets the whole floor which then gets slippery, and there’s nowhere near enough hooks for your ‘stuff’. But the outstanding feature is the palm tree growing in the centre of the atrium!:

 

Linguistic / cultural note from HIM: every tap in that loo block, including those in the wash-up area, has a little sticker in three languages encouraging careful use of water. The French tells us that water is ‘scarce’ (=rare); in English it’s ‘precious’; but in German it’s ‘expensive’ (= kostbar)! Moreover, in French and English we are invited to economise or save, using the –ons, or ‘let’s’ forms, but in German we are instructed  to help save it, using an imperative. What does this tell us about national characters or stereotypes, and which, if translated into your own language (if you were neither French, English, nor German),  would make you think twice about leaving the tap running while you clean your teeth or rinsing the washing-up under running water? Discuss. Or not, as you wish.

 

• Sunday, 16^th October, 

  Let me! Me do! My turn! 

  Don’t be a silly Sally! You can’t write postcards! 

  Course I can! I’m as computer lilliput as you …

  What? 

  You know  – computer lib .. computer lit … computer obliterate as you are. 

  Doh – get on with it then. After all, you have been doing the running around for two days.

  Right! Sunday 16^th October: THEY didn’t get going soon enough to get to the supermarket before it closed at midday, so they drove on to a little harbour town called La Cotiniere where they found a market and bought some of the stuff on the shopping list. But they still had nothing for lunch so they went into a restaurant and had a meal surrounded by locals having their Sunday shellfish feast (trying saying that 3 times quickly!). They both had a starter of potato salad with smoked salmon then HE had a helping of moules-frites –

   What? 

  Mussels and chips – I thought you were a French van?

   I was imported from Germany, actually.

   Sprichst du denn Deutsch ?

   Get lost.

  Charmant ! and SHE had chicken breast in mushroom and cream sauce with a load of chips and salad which she couldn’t finish. The waitress said ‘That’s not a pretty sight’, but she was a nice waitress and was only joking. They enjoyed the meal, but it was a bit expensive, so they said it was a treat for Rachel’s birthday.

  Then they went to the beach and put up the beach shelter and HE did battle with the waves! 

  When they got back they fell asleep – 

  I know!

  Get out! And when they woke up it was too late for supper so they just had a cup of soup. 

  Linguistic footnote from HIM: You can’t send a postcard without a picture, (not my fault if you didn’t take any!) so here’s one:   

  

  We bought these solar powered light posts to mark our guy ropes and maybe reduce tripping hazards. The packaging and instructions were in six languages – with a separate piece of paper for each language for the instructions, but NO ENGLISH! And people tell me everyone speaks English!

Saturday, October 15th. 

I’ve had a complete rest for three days now, and it looks like there’s more to come, since THEY’ve decided to stay here for a whole week. Even at my table temperatures are well up in the 20s, though the nights are getting colder. I don’t mind doing nothing – little Sally can do the running around and I’ll just watch the coming and going. Obviously some of what follows is what THEY (or Sally) have told me, because, of course “I wasn’t there”.

 

One reason for staying here is that they have unrestricted use (from 10.30 to 19.00) of this excellent pool. It’s completely convered at this time of year, and heated, but any or all of the sections can be opened in hotter weather. When they first went, they were the only people there, though another couple and a man came in later.

 

First day, they just stayed around, jobbing, organising, having a brunch of bacon and egg and then going to the pool.

 

 

 

 

Second day, Friday, Sally tells me, they went out and about, first to see if there was any possibility of boat excursions, but apparently not now till the All-Saints holiday, then they picnicked in a delightful forest setting – well, HE liked it, SHE wanted more sun!

Moving on, they found a large LeClerc Hypermarché, where as well as essentials they bought some prepared ‘Poulet Basqaise’ for evening meal. Late in the afternoon they discovered a marvellous beach with miles of sand where HE dipped his toes in the Atlantic:

 

 

and SHE lazed about sheltered by this amazingly grafiti’d ruined gun emplacement:

Today, after the rugby match on a (fairly) big screen – France beating Wales 9-8 – they’ve hung around all day, enjoying chicken salad in the sun (just off our pitch) and I hear talk of that spécialité du camping-car, ‘lapin au van’ being planned for this evening. (It’s a bi-lingual joke…. HE says … not the meal, the name!)