Tag Archives: Travel
Bodensee, Rheinfall, and home.
Tergernsee to Egnach – 394kms.
I’ve actually forgotten where my intended destination was! But it was somewhere beyond Zurich and into the hills, However, the views of the Bodensee (which we call Lake Constance) as we came round its eastern end were so appealing that before St. Gallen, I turned off the motorway and decided to look for a campsite, rather than drive on for two more hours. The first two I tried were full, so I turned around, thinking I would head back to the motorway and overnight on a service area. Then I saw another sign to caravan/camping and thought ‘might as well have a look’. Well! What a place!
Camping Seehorn at Egnach (I nicknamed it Eggnog) ….. if there’s a better site anywhere in Europe, I want to go there! The facilities are a m a z i n g! I won’t go on – you can look it up if interested. I suppose if I must find a drawback – no swimming pool. Normally, the lake would make up for that, but only in fine weather and if there’s enough water to swim in! More later.
The nice man at reception, Urs, the owner, I think, hesitated at first, but then he found me a pitch where I could spend one night. If I wanted longer I might have to change pitch. That suited me. Not yet realising how lucky I’d been to turn up there, I thought one night would be OK.
By next morning (Friday 17th), having looked around and studied some of the leaflets, I’d no intention of moving on! Urs said I could stay on pitch 104, where I was, so that was OK. I had lunch at the restaurant overlooking the lake, and got the latest load of washing done using the site’s excellent facilities.
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- The grassy area belongs to the campsite.
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- There’s a diving platform by the little tree; no water anywhere near it, though!
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- My hat!
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- What’s happening here? Is that a thunderstorm bubbling up?
In fact, there was a thunderstorm approaching, but not from those clouds, which moved away to the east; the storm came from the south-west.
I decided I would visit Europe’s biggest waterfall, the Rheinfall, and do it by train to Schaffhausen (see map). The railway line ran alongside the site, between the pitches and the restaurant. I thought I’d get the bike off the rack and go to Egnach station along the cyclepath beside the railway, and I would do a trial run on Saturday, to be sure that I could do it, and so could the bike (it’s electric and I wasn’t sure of it, not having used it for some time.) The ride took only 15 minutes, and there was an ample bike park at the station. Tickets were obtained from a machine by the platform. I wanted a day excursion ticket, but I could get it to produce one. (This was still Saturday, and I wanted the ticket for Sunday.) A lovely young lady came along to buy her own ticket for the next train, so I stood back, but then I asked if she could help me get mine. She got me a return to Schaffhausen; it was probably more expensive than the excursion ticket, but never mind. A brief conversation then took place between us in German and English until her train arrived. She was a sixth former (as we would say) and she wanted to visit England on exchange next year. Then the train came and that ‘brief encounter’ was over. ……..
Back at base, ticket in wallet, I made up my mind to swim in Lake Constance, just to say I’d done it. There was a sign on the jetty warning people not to dive off it! Ha – as if anyone would; the water was barely knee deep. There was a second diving platform some 50-70 metres out, but even those who waded out to it were still no more than waist deep. The bottom was a mixture of heavy sand and weed (and fish). I walked out a little way and sort of lay down and ‘swam’ a couple of strokes. So I swam in Lake Constance …… didn’t I?
Sunday 19 August: The last of my special outings. Bike – 2 trains – bus – funny little self-driving pod-bus and that brought me to the top of the Rheinfall:
The people on top of the rock pinacle got there by boat across the pool, and climbing the steps from the jetty at its foot! I didn’t do that.
This was the view from the terrace of the restaurant where I had lunch – a sausage and rosti. (Well, I hadn’t had a sausage all the time in Germany, so I thought I’d have one in Switzerland!) I understand that a lot more of the rocks to the left is normally covered with white water.
See the boat? That’s what I did next, just a short circuit, but enough to ‘enjoy’ the moment when the boatman revved up to full power and drove us straight into the spray of the main fall:
The return journey was made without the bus ride – I hadn’t realised that all I had to do was change trains at Schaffhausen, and there was a station at the top of the fall. Never mind.
There were some good views from the train, both ways, as sections of the line ran very close to the lake:
I can’t explain the white globe in the middle of that picture; it appears on all the photos which I took through the train window, if I pointed the phone straight at the glass, but not if I took the pic obliquely:
Next morning I left Seehorn, and pointed Harry to France (Alsace), then north to head for the Channel. 
At Colmar I had a delightful al fresco evening with two English couples and the children of one of them. I wish there had been more evenings like that after the cruise, though not necessarily with English folk. The weather was still hot, so I chose campsites with pools. This one or rather, these two, were at Berny-Rivière:
Not good photos, as I was trying to be discreet. (Fine line between discreet and furtive!) This was a huge park, popular with Brits, and within day tripping distance of Paris and Disneyland, with excursions from the site. I spent two nights here so as to relax and catch up with the washing. I promised myself an end-of-trip meal at the restaurant, where I was tempted by the ‘Menu Traditionel’ which included escargots and blanquette de veau. However, when I turned up at about 7.30, the place was fully booked for the evening.
There’s one more incident to narrate. Channel crossing was now booked for mid-morning Sunday 26th, and I had 2 days easy driving to get there. Still aiming for a swim on my last evening, I chose a park at Guines, close to Calais, and proceeded as normal, stopping at service areas and lay-bys as needed. Once on site, I was sat in Harry, having a drink and doing a puzzle, when the van began to shake. Funny!? There’s not that much wind … then bumping noises from the back. I got out to find a young (black) man in a hoodie trying, I thought, to get my bike off the bike rack. When I challenged him, he walked away and tried to hide in a toilet cubicle. A neighbour kept watch while I went to reception for help. Long story short, when the police arrived (MEN with GUNS!), they and the site warden were of the opinion that he wasn’t trying to steal the bike, but that he had been ‘riding’ under the bike cover, clinging to the rack, probably since my last stop (at least 100 kms), having seen the GB sticker on the back, and assuming I was crossing the Channel that evening. A migrant, in other words, trying to get to England, and not realising I was going to stop overnight in France!
By the time that bit of excitement was over, I felt more like another drink than a swim, but this site had a restaurant, too, and I went to ask if booking was necessary. “Ah, oui, Monsieur, absolument!” – and the only available tables were outside. Hmm, weather was a bit threatening, but I booked for 7.30. The menu I chose didn’t start with six snails, as the previous evening’s would have – but with a dozen!
The main course was – guess what? – they weren’t in the news then – scallops! In a delicious creamy sauce. I had to push my table a little further under the awning at one point, to avoid drips from the rain, but it was short-lived and I was able to get back to Harry between showers. Once there, I thought a little digestif was in order to …. well, aid digestion and induce slumber …. slumber with echoes of G & S sounding across the Rhine, and visions of balmy, sociable post-concert cocktails on the sun (moon?) deck, of blue lakes and ‘sail boats and fishermen’, of a smiling Rhein Maiden and a thundering waterfall …. and of MEN with GUNS!
After an uneventful (fortunately) drive and crossing, I arrived at Porton Court mid-afternoon, and the weather being distinctly uninviting for going out, we had a Chinese takeaway. Next day, Monday 27th August, at about 3.15pm, after one month away, and a round trip of 3,652kms or 2,282 miles, Harry, and me, and Dippy, came home.
Harry Goes To Wales
Harry!
Ja?
Tell Franky about our holiday.
What? That little grey car? He will not understand. He is like Lady Lucy – he does not speak well English.
Yes, he does! He’s more English than you are. … Just a bit – Yorkshire. Franky!
Yes, Boss?
Tell Harry if you don’t understand him, OK?
Right-o, Boss.
Who is ‘Boss’?
I am – get on with it.
In Ordnung.
What’s he on about?
Harry was right -maybe I shouldn’t have started this …
So – we leave Meltham Monday 31st July. We travel well. We go through sunshine and showers and arrive at Cringoed Caravan Park (near Machinlleth) at about 4.30. We stopped for SKT to have ‘brunch’ at Birch services.
Who is SKT?
I am!
Keep yer whiskers on!
I may have raised this before – is sausage, egg, beans and chips a ‘brunch’?
That know I not.
What?
I do not know this.
I do – it aint.
Next day – Tuesday, we go into Machinlleth, where SKT hopes to find an old friend.
Yes, John Charlesworth, an artist, used to live opposite us in Bolton, but we lost touch after they moved. I found out on the web that he had a studio in Machinlleth, and so he did – but a nice lady at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) told me he’d moved to Shrewsbury. She made a phone call to see if a colleague had a contact number, but no.
You were lucky to get this information between showers!
Yes – showers interspersed with perods of continuous rain. We drove to Aberystwyth (because it was there, I suppose!) and back to Cringoed.
Do I tell this or do you?
Sorry! – Carry on.
Wednesday 2nd August – we drive back through Mach. to Aber. where SKT has breakfast at Morrison’s, and gets cross about having paid too much for diesel fuel on the way –
I didn’t know we were going to end up at Morrison’s!
– and so on to Whitewell Holiday Park near Tenby, where are already Rachel, Sean, Becky and Shannon with the caravan. We park on the grass some way away and opposite them. Then begins the rain and the wind.
And when there was no rain and wind, there was wind and rain. On Thursday (3rd) the family go off to visit a farm / theme park and I have a lazy day, joining the family for supper when they come back.
And on Friday morning, a couple with a caravan next to the family’s – a German couple as it happens – move away and we move across to occupy that pitch. This makes movement from caravan to me much easier, and safer for Shannon who likes to come and visit quite frequently, especially first thing in the morning, but until now this has involved crossing the ‘road’ between us.
By now we have SUNSHINE! We pack picnics and beach stuff into the big car –
What big car?
Sean’s big car – the one they tow the caravan with, and we head for Coppet Hall Beach:
(Our camp is centre left with the red shelter and the striped windbreak.)
First, dig out your pool:
Then, make a channel and dam the stream and let the pool fill up till it overflows! Shannon is the third generation to learn this game on this same beach – though Rachel says she thinks she and Chris played it first in Devon or Cornwall.
Even I have a little swim (in the sea) and thanks to Becky for staying with me. Later Shannon and I watch the boats in Saundersfoot harbour …
… while the others go shopping and come back with fish n chips.
Back at Whitewell, some hardy folk like to sit out between the vans as it gets dark – even if it means wrapping up for warmth:
This was a GOOD DAY … but it had unfortunate consequences ….
Saturday, 5th August: SUNSTROKE! Or if not sunstroke, sun induced migraine, but with the pain in an unusual place and a very hot forehead. When packing beach stuff into the big car, I forgot to include a hat – even though it was on my checklist –
Dumkopf!
What’s ee say?
He called me a twit.
What, like dick-‘ead?
Exactly.
Eee – I like im!
– then I sat for hours in the sun in one place on that beach. … So on Saturday the family go to visit Caldey Island (which I wasn’t plannng to do anyway) and any thoughts I had of sitting outside or doing a bit of ‘housekeeping’ are forgotten as I lie in Harry most of the day nursing me ‘ead. But it gets better enough for me to stick to the plan and prepare supper for the others ready for when they get back. (Potato Bolognaise – sounds odd, but try it sometime!)
After supper I get the guitar out and have a little singalong. Rachel said people wouldn’t gather round or stop, but I said they do in France, so why not try it and see. What was interesting was that although some folk did comment as they went by, apparently, that it was nice to hear, it was a Polish family – well, mother and daughters, dad being busy with the barbecue – who brought some drinks and sat down for a while.
Sunday is disappointing. The weather has turned nasty again, and the seafood restaurant I’d noticed on the harbour side in Saundersfoot, and invited everyone to have lunch at, proved less than wonderful. (No children’s menu, said they would do a small portion but didn’t, didn’t take cards, but didn’t tell us that when we booked, and presented a bill for six meals when we’d had only five – and one of them for a four-year-old paying full price!)
After coffee and dessert at a different establishment, two fellas return to the vans, while the three lasses go back to the beach to swim in the rain! Well, it’s all wet, I suppose…
Monday (7th) is our moving day. We had not planned to stay with the family all the time and SKT wanted to see the Gower, which before he never visited –
D’yer mean he’d never bin there before, like?
Like what?
It’s just an idiom.
That’s rude.
No, it’s not – carry on, Harry.
SKT and I are ready to leave before the Tuggers appear –
Tuggers?
It’s a nickname Motorhomers use for Caravaners.
– but they come round in time to help remove the levellers. Then we wave goodbye and leave Whitewell. SKT is hoping to find a place for breakfast along the way, but there is nowhere evident till we leave the motoroway near Swansea. So here he has an early lunch from Burger King! Soon we stop again at a big Tesco’s and he buys some cough medicine.
Yes, a harsh and painful cough has been bothering me all morning.
And then is a short drive along the Gower Peninsular to Pitton Cross, just before Rhossili.
Pitton Cross Caravan Park is well away the best site of the three we’ve been on during this trip. (Though the showers were better at Cringoed) There’s a good shop, (though no honey – they say the can’t get it, so a rum toddy for the cough has to wait) and even a sea view from our pitch, so next morning, the weather being fine and warm, it’s cooked breakfast outside:
Then we go exploring. Beach-side car parks in the Gower are motorhome friendly – no height limiters – but overnight parking is forbidden. So we start at Rhossili, which some describe as the finest beach in Britain:
But we do not stay here – too much walk from car park to beach, down steep path. So we look at Horton:
Sehr schön. Very nice, but I do not see this as from the car park there is a view only of the dunes. SKT has a little picnic and we move on. Eventually we find Oxwich. (We twice miss the turning as the sign is completely buried in the hedge!)
But perseverance is rewarded, because Oxwich is THE ideal spot for a day at the beach with a motorhome! (In spite of the £6 access fee.)
You’re almost on the beach, you can set up ‘camp’ or sit near your van, you can cook, picnic or barbecue, and you have your changing facilities, with a hot shower if you want it, right there. Moreover, there’s a snack bar on site and a toilet block, ‘traditional’, but clean and acceptable, if you don’t want to use your onboard facilities.
Meanwhile, the family had come down to visit the Gower Heritage Centre, only 15 minutes away, so they came to join me – only £3 for them and the big car!
We had tea / coffee, some played on the beach and some went in the water:
(The red dot upper centre is Rachel, and the white dot to her right is Becky’s head!)
But soon it’s time to pack up:
They have a long drive back to Whitewell.
And we have a short one back to Pitton Cross, where, having found some honey at the shop in the village, SKT is able to treat his cough with his rum toddy, and for the second evening, there is a remarkable sunset:
Wednesday (9th August) is fine enough, but with more cloud, more wind, and much less warm. However, Oxwich is so appealing that we go back there. Here is something very British happening; folk have come to enjoy themselves, and they are determined this to do. They are … what do you say – cowarding? –
Cowering!
Ah, ja – they are cowering in their shelters and behind their windbreaks, wearing their anoraks, their fleecies, their hoodies, and that latest must-have accessory – the wetsuit. Occasionally some go down to the sea and swim a bit, but they do not stay long. SKT, he stays inside all day, watching other folk, doing his puzzles and looking at old photos on the computer, as well as taking one or two new ones:
(Looking towards Three Cliffs Bay – accessible only on foot!)
On the way back to base, I ‘treat’ myself to a meal at the nearest pub. It’s adequate, not wonderful – not a treat!
Thursday 10th is fine and warm again, which is annoying in a way, because it is long drive home day. This weather yesterday would have been very good. We leave Pitton Cross at about 9.15 but go only a short distance to a garden centre where a cafe is doing breakfasts.
Not only doing breakfasts, but doing WELSH breakfasts, so as well as bacon, sausage, egg and mushrooms, I have lava bread and cockles! And with the best, simply made, cup of coffee just like at home – I donta wanta my ‘personal barista’ who maika me waita too long and costa megabucks. In fact, this was the best meal out of the whole trip – and the best value.
So SKT is now ready to drive home with only two more stops – one for the necessary, and one for ice cream. Parts of the journey are slow – M42, M6, Oldham – but we arrive at Helme Park at about 6.45, more or less as expected.
So, that were a good do, eh, Boss?
It were, aye. One or two disappointments like not finding John and only a couple of really fine days, but the Gower is certainly worth another visit, and there were two splendid sunsets:
PS: In case you hadn’t noticed (in the media) Saundersfoot beach is up for sale … quarter of a million, anyone?
A Day Out, a Barbecue and a Birthday.
Grandson S had asked for ‘a day out with Grandad’ as a treat, and June 17th (2017) was a really fine day, so we piled furniture and a picnic into Franky and set off for Derbyshire – the Peak District boundary is only just up the hill from Meltham. Down through Glossop and over the Snake Pass brought us alongside the Derwent and Ladybower reservoirs, which gave opportunity to give a little history lesson about the Dambusters, which was topical. There was a picnic site shown on the map – and signed – near the reservoir, but we couldn’t find it, so we drove on through Castleton and picnicked under Mam Tor:
Grandson decided he wanted to see the Blue John mine and caves; I had suggested one of the caves and was thinking of Treak Cliff, but really I had forgotten what was involved. See the steps? About 220 of them! Although I did keep up with the party, using the handrail and my stick, this was not a good idea! The unrepaired hip has been extra troublesome ever since. I have an appointment to see the ‘Hippy Man’ in September.
Father’s day, June 18th. Weather still fine and sunny, so the lunch at Oakleigh Close was a barbecue:
Later in the afternoon, there was fun (for some) in the paddling pool. (I have doubts about this picture – it shows a bit too much of the side effects of hormone treatment!):
Sitting like that wasn’t comfortable for long, so an alternative was found:
Throwing water in Gaia’s (Grandad’s) face was great fun – retaliation wasn’t received with equal merriment!
Saturday July 15th: Shannon is four years old! Our first job – mine and Franky’s –
I were wondering when I was getten a word, like. It were me as took you and that lad over tut Peak District, tha knows.
Of course we know – I said so in the first paragraph, and you’re in the photo of the picnic spot. It was a great drive – don’t get huffy. Tell us about Shannon’s birthday.
Aye, well, fust up, we had to go into Wakefield to pick up a friend –
Vik.
– and her little lass –
Rosie.
Shurrup!
Just ‘splaining.
– off the train from down south –
London.
But tha kept goin round in circles and nearly made us late.
No, I didn’t – just needed to do a bit of birthday related shopping, but getting back to the station – we were there in good time at first – was a bit tricky with the traffic lights and the one-way system. Anyway, this picture is of Rosie and Shannon the next day:
Aye, well, once we’d packed them in, alongside all your clutter –
What? I’d taken most of it out!
Hmmm …
That’s my line.
Once all in, we went up to that house where Big Harry is and you all disappeared round t’ back.
Where the garden was set out in full party mode:
In fact, it was full of children and parents – mostly mums – as well. The slide was the special parental present two years ago; this year’s was the trampoline in the background. There was a lot of feeding going on, as well as playing – then it was time for CAKE!:
Or several cakes, really, but only one big chocolatey one in the shape of a 4, with CANDLES on ….
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU …..”
The Removal from Sonnac, Part Four – The Journey Home.
This photo should have been in the last chapter. The evening meal in Mirepoix was mentioned, but the photo didn’t get inserted. Michel and Diana are sitting diagonally opposite each other; the man raising his glas is their friend, Hugh:
Harry?
Ja?
Do you want to do it?
What?
Write the diary.
Why?
Dunno – I thought you might like to.
So … Aber nein – you do it; I will just, what you say, chip in, when I will.
OK. So it’s day 16, Good Friday, 14th April, and we’re leaving Sonnac at 1.50pm.
You did not seem very sad.
No, I wasn’t. I’d been looking forward to it.
In fact, you drove along saying ‘Bye-Bye’ to everything and everywhere.
I did. ‘Bye-Bye, Camplimoux; Bye-bye, Camon,’ and even, (join in everyone!) ‘Bye-bye, La BASTIDE de BOUSignac!’ And, of course, the Hers, which, incidentally, was not much more than a lickle trickle compared with the full river of nearly two weeks ago. The ‘Piebald Pyrenees’ were different, too, with much more black showing through the snow.
Good Friday is not a public Holiday in France, so I overshot the motorway in Pamiers to go to the Orange shop –
You went to buy oranges?
No, you daft goose, Orange, capital O. I’d been told on the phone that I was NOT to leave the IT equipment in the house, but to take it (livebox and TV decoder) to an Orange shop. That took longer than you’d think! Then back round the roundabout to Intermarché’s fuel station, and so with a full tank and a seriously cluttered interior, not to mention a full garage, with the bed at its highest, we headed north, but only as far as the first aire for a quick, late lunch – just a sandwich. (It was already 3.30) Then the serious travelling began …
However, at Aire Jardin des Causses du Lot I had to stop for a rest, but in the end we did make 351 kms to arrive at the old favourite, Porte de Correze, at 8.30. Supper from a tin, and a good night’s sleep – even on a service area!
(That’s a photo from a previous journey, but the location and the view are the same. I can’t imagine waking up to a view like that on a British service area, having parked overnight for free!)
Ja; sehr schön.
Day 17, Saturday 15th April. Porte de Correze doesn’t only have scenery and pleasant facilities, but it has an excellent gift shop, with lots of local produce and a wide range of possibilities for presents. Maybe that’s an advantage of not charging for parking – folk go in and spend! So I did that, and bought a croissant for breakfast as well, but drove on the 20kms (15 minutes) needed to get to that other favourite, Briance Ligoure, before enjoying it:
Hey! Why is here little Sally?
Well, if you remember the weather was poor, – cold and showery – on April 15th, so I searched for an earlier photo, and thought a reminder of the ‘old’ days might be fun.
Na, gut.
Of course, I didn’t get out to enjoy my café-croissant at a picnic table! That would have been taking nostalgia a bit too far!
I have table, where you often enjoy many things.
I know – I love it. Anyway, another short hop –
I don’t hop!
This is taking ‘chipping in’ too far! Another short drive got us to J 37, the usual fill-up point at the Centre Commercial just off the motorway. But something had changed – there had always been height limiters approaching the petrol station, and we’d always passed under them, but they used to have ‘dangly-jangly’ bits on them, which weren’t there any more, and they looked lower than before. They were signed at 3m, and Harry is 2.7, but that’s without the TV aerial. Also, there were no vehicles of similar height already on the forecourt, though it was busy. I didn’t want to risk it, but I parked up and went to do some shopping – another place undergoing major reconstruction, then I had to use the SatNav to find the next nearby fuel station, which gave me an interesting ride – not a hop! – round the outskirts of Limoges – so interesting, in fact, that Carol would have loved it when we passed one verge covered in wild orchids! (She’d have wanted me to stop dead and let her out to take photos – on a ring road!)
I’d allowed an extra day for this journey, to give time to visit Montlouis and Vouvray in the Loire valley, so somewhere between Limoges and Orléans I left the motorway –
So also did I –
WE left the motorway, and since I realised it was probably going to be too late for wine-tasting that evening, which may or may not have been a good decision, we headed for a camp site I’d found in the guide book. This was in the village, or small town, of Salbris, and we got dead lucky – a lovely little lakeside site, with a warm welcome and nice facilities, even a water tap at the pitch. (250 kms driven that day.)
It was remarkably unbusy for Easter weekend. In summer there would be a swimming pool and a bar-restaurant, but never mind, a tin of Cassoulet made a nice enough supper. (It’s a speciality from Castelnaudary, and having never tried it when living nearby, I thought I should before leaving. …. It won’t be on the ‘must have that again’ list. It consists mainly of sausage, other meat and beans.)
Day 18. Sunday 16th (Easter Day) I wasn’t in a hurry to get away that morning, so I took my time using the campsite facilities to attend to Harry’s “water” jobs, and it was 11.25 before we moved off site. Approaching from the south, it made sense to head for Montlouis first (I wish I knew how to put maps on here …). Getting to the town was no problem, but the centre stands high above the river (the Loire) where the wine centres are, and finding the way down was a nightmare! –
Yes, you drove round in the circles, no?
Well, we certainly did do one or two streets –
Very narrow streets!
– we did one or two very narrow streets more than once, but this was because of road works and closures. And if we did drive through a pedestrianised area (it certainly looked like one) it was because I couldn’t find any other way. Still, finally we did get down –
Very steeply down!
– to the riverside and on to a familiar road with a number of wine tasting / selling outlets – BUT! Big disappointment – everywhere was closed! I was assuming that there would be lots of holiday traffic to attract, but apparently not, or maybe strict Sunday laws were in force.
So we moved on to Tours, as we had to to cross the river. After a brief lunch stop – at Harry’s table – on to Vouvray, but fearing the situation would be the same as in Montlouis. But no – maybe not all, but several wine centres were open. I only needed one anyway. Why the North and South banks of the Loire were different with regard to Easter Day opening, I didn’t find out, perhaps the river is the boundary between départements or other administrative areas, but anyway, loaded with 2 six-bottle boxes of still and pétillant (bubbles!), and nowhere to put them, we headed back to Tours to join the motorway to drive north via Le Mans and Rouen.
The rest of the day’s drive was uneventful, even Rouen was free-flowing, or ‘fluide’ as it says on the signs. The season was considerably advanced from just a fortnight before; most of the white blossom was faded or had dropped, but the cowslips were even more prolific. Rape fields and sections of gorse were brilliant yellow, but green was dominant.
I know I go on a bit about it, but I am still amazed by the variety and design of the service areas and lay-bys on French motorways. Pulling in to a previously unvisited layby south of Le Mans, the Aire des Croiselles, I found we were in a sort of mini nature reserve! In fact, the construction of this section of the A28 had been delayed till 2004 because of the habitat of the protected beetle, Osmoderma Eremita, (Hermit Beetle?) Why the French call it the Pique-Prune (Plum Stabber) I can’t work out since it lives on dead wood, not plums, but this ‘rest area’ has a sector designed to provide habitat for it:
There were also: (click on the photos for titles)
a water meadow
a fragrant area for relaxation
and walls made for lizards to hide in.
However, there was still ground to cover, and we actually got as far as Baie de Somme before stopping for the night. It was 9pm and we’d done nearly 600 kms. The more scenic parking areas would have been out in the wind, and I wanted to be near the facilities, so I parked near the building, and since the restaurant was still open, I had a meal of chicken in white sauce with ratatouille and new potatoes, which was actually much nicer than it looked, having been on the counter for some time, I guess. I also used the wifi to book a ferry crossing for the next day.
Day 19. Monday 17th April Café-croissant for breakfast, and a check on the email, and, of course, a visit to the gift shop – like Porte de Correze, Baie de Somme has an irresistible selection, so a bit of shopping was unavoidable.
Since the break at Limoges, I’d been trying to exchange Harry’s spare gas bottle which was (is) empty. But I should have done it a long time ago – I’d left it too late! –
He called me the dumme Gans!
OK – chalk that one up to you. The petrol stations were all unattended (Easter Sunday / Monday) – pay by card at the pump, but no-one on hand to open the cages of gas bottles. But I didn’t give up – using satnav I found a small petrol station, open, just off the motorway in Calais, and the young man at the till was quite happy to get a bottle out for me – there were six bottles of the right type visible in the cage …. every one of them was empty! But we only found that out after I’d pulled loads of stuff out of Harry’s garage to get at the spare bottle, and spread it around his back wheel on the forecourt (the stuff, not the bottle)!! (There’s no-one to take the best photos!) I did give up! So I have no reserve gas. (The point is that the bottles in question, and the regulator that fits them, are French, or European, so to change to British ones will involve expense and leave me with two unreturnable bottles, one of them with gas in.)
Pleasant ferry crossing, and as we approached Dover (I’ve posted so many ‘White Cliffs’ photos over the years.) I texted the Offspring “The cliffs are very white, the sky is blue and white, and the sea is blue-green. The litter will be ‘orrible.”
I could leave it there, but there are two days to go before Harry gets ‘home’ (i.e. Wakefield) and I resume babysitting duties. We got to Porton Court (Surbiton) at 5pm, 269 kms driving from Baie de Somme, and a familiar yellow Corsa was guarding the most convenient visitor’s parking bay for Harry. Christine and Carol provided a nice evening meal and I found a bottle of Vouvray somewhere. (It wasn’t hard – the two boxes were – and are – still on the top step just inside Harry’s hab. door.)
Day 20. Tuesday 18th April Harry had a rest day! I spent some time choosing a few – quite a few – of Philip’s clothes to keep, before the family decide what to do with the rest, then later Carol drove us out in the yellow Corsa to Richmond Park when we had a light lunch – fine enough for al fresco. I knew nothing about Richmond Park, although it’s the largest royal park in London, about 2,500 acres and home to over 600 deer (google it for more info). From King Henry’s Mound there’s a remarkable view, with an amazing long-distance sight of St. Paul’s through a well-kept gap in the hedges, trees and buildings all the way to central London:
(I didn’t take that – I ‘borrowed’ it from a website) I took these – the first one points away from St. Paul’s and includes (the viewpoint diagram says) Heathrow and Windsor Castle:
Then we went down into Kingston to do the return river trip to Richmond and back – a section of the river I hadn’t done before. This is approaching Teddington Lock:
Back at Porton Court, Judi joined us, which was nice, before we went out for a very enjoyable Chinese meal. The restaurant we’d been to before was closed, so we tried a different one – I think it will stay on the list of options.
Final Day. Day 21. Wednesday 19 April Not a lot to report, really. On the road at 10 am, and took the M42, which enables a stop at Beaconsfield Services, where there’s a Weatherspoon’s for brunch, as well as avoiding any traffic problems around Watford and South Mimms. Then a bit of the A43 gets you to join the M1 at Northampton. No problems anywhere, and arrived at Oakleigh Close at 4.30. 355 kms from Porton Court.
Total round trip in these three weeks, 2336 miles – well done, Harry!
Lots of hard work, one big setback, one major job done, and some nice moments mixed in. I wish I could say ‘back to normal’, but radiotherapy starts tomorrow; return drives to Leeds (about one hour each way) every weekday for the next month …. but that’s the next story.
(Photo by Judi on a previous visit.)
THE ‘MISSING’ MONTHS AND A FLYING VISIT TO UK
Readers with an eye for detail might have noticed (but probably didn’t!) that there were almost two months unaccounted for between Harry’s return from England in March and the Dordogne holiday in May. Here are a few pictures and comments on the missing weeks.
April included a mini heatwave and brought our ancient pear tree into full bloom – we’d missed this last year as we were ‘over there’ in April.
We opened up the pool and were pleased with its general condition. With the water around 22° we got in and scrubbed the tidemark at the water line:
Then we had the year’s first barbecue:
Of course, April 8th saw the start of my 70th year. Carol made me a cake:
There was the traditional ‘Omelette de Pâques’ in the village on Easter Monday. Does Carolyn know what’s going on behind her back?
After the heatwave there were a couple of weeks of fairly persistent drizzle – quite Cumbrian! But April 25th included a fine double rainbow – impossible to get it all in one photo. 
Carol decided to use this time to decorate our bedroom. The room was cleared of all except the largest pieces of furniture, and for about two weeks we slept in ‘Patience’, the first guest room.
We like the end result:
But it was nearly time for Judi’s arrival to house-sit. This lot had be removed from ‘Pirates’ so that Carol (Jnr) could use it, arriving while we were away.
Pam and Trevor have now bought a house in Arriège, about 40 minutes away, but at this time had not yet moved in. They were living in a ‘gîte’ nearby. We’d heard of an Esperanto group meeting near Pamiers and, though it wasn’t ideal timing, Trevor and I went and were glad to have done so. Pam kindly helped Carol with the bed-making here. That done, they went for a walk above the village: 
After the Dordogne holiday, and just before our next escapade, Nick had a significant birthday: 
He and Carolyn invited most of the village to ‘apéro’ on the square in front of ‘Maison Bleue’, and kindly – or rashly – invited me to entertain!
The next day,May 29th, we flew out of Carcassonne heading for Stansted. I really should have taken a picture of the cattle pen which passes for a ‘departure lounge’ at Carcassonne airport, and circulated it widely to illustrate the difference between the myth of Ryanair travel as portrayed by the current TV advert and the reality. It really is a dreadful experience!
At Stansted, more discomfort; we missed the chance to use the loos on the plane before the descent began, so by the time we we in the terminal this was first priority. Once up the steps – STEPS! – and into the corridor, the nearest loos were the ‘wrong’ way – against the flow (of people). Got there – the ladies was queueing, and the gents: closed! Disabled, only choice! Once in, pitch black, no light, no switch! In the end, Carol emerged from the Ladies and stood guard with the door open enough to provide a minimum of light ….
So now we were way behind everyone else, the disgorged contents of two planes. We followed signs. Down two escalators. Into an empty hall with no exit but several automatic doors, which wouldn’t open – and the escalators coming DOWN, but none going UP. There was no signage. We had NO IDEA that this was a shuttle station. I banged on several of the doors with my stick. Carol picked up the emergency phone, then lights began to flash above some of the doors, which then soon opened to give access to the shuttle.
Things did get a bit better. At the main terminal a very nice young lady listened sympathetically to tales of closed and unlit loos and claustrophobic basements with no signs, then once through passport control we set about trying to find our car hire firm. Having said ‘never again’ to Hertz after last year’s experience (you can check back if you really want to!) we’d chosen ‘Firefly’. No evidence of Firefly’s desk …. We phoned them. They’re part of Hertz!! But this worked in our favour, in the end. We asked if they could bring up our previous history and we registered ‘disappointment’ at having had no reply to our feedback; they gave us £24 worth of 2nd driver insurance for free.
We collected our Vauxhall Corsa and headed for Potters Bar where we had a nice meal with Chrys and Jan.
We had gone to England to be at the dedication service for Chris & Michelle’s children. We were saddened to have heard of the death of Martin Horton, an old friend of Carol’s, husband of Cathy. But happily, in one sense, the funeral had been planned for that Saturday, 31st May, so we were able to postpone our drive to Huddersfield in order to attend. Not only that, but Martin’s sister, Mary, wheelchair user, lives not far from Chrys and Jan, so we were able to take her as well.
During the drive north in the evening, the second driver insurance was particularly important since I was hit by the second migraine of the day (or a recurrence of the first) and couldn’t see straight!
We got lucky in Huddersfield as we needed advice to find our hotel, having no satnav or plan. We stopped beside a very helpful taxi driver who said ‘follow me’ and then stopped again a bit later to point out the road we needed.
We were also well served at the Cambridge Hotel the next morning where the receptionist not only copied two sections of town plan for us showing how to get to the (changed) venue for the service, but brought them to our room. Chris’s instructions by text hadn’t arrived at that time.
It’s difficult for us to comment on the service, especially after the sharply contrasting funeral the day before. Contrasting not only because of the nature of the event. The funeral had been High Anglican, with robed clergy, traditional church music, communion, and a Bishop to pronounce the commendation. The dedication was ‘Evengelical / Pentecostal’, casual dress, guitars and drums. Let’s say both events were found to be appropriate and meaningful to those most closely involved.
Respecting the ongoing advice not to show identifiable photos of S & N (a pity since this was ‘their’ day!) here are some of other folk:
She’s a show-stealer; can’t think where she gets it from!
After lunch at the church, a reduced party moved to 730 Manchester Road …..
CHRIS! I think Dan and Fiona gave ‘Funny Faces’ as a present to the children!
Er, yes, well …..
….it was on the chair; I just picked it up. But who took the photo? Either S or N, I can’t remember, but didn’t he/she do well?
At last Daddy (Chris) stopped playing and let his son have a go:
Rachel, Sean and Sannon left before the rest of us shared a take-away meal. Then after bedtime we got the cards out and the remaining foursome (Dan, Fiona and Luke had also left) enjoyed a rubber of bridge.
The drive south on Monday 2nd June was uneventful and we are grateful to Chrys and Jan for another evening’s hospitality and bed for the night. The Stansted experience on Tuesday morning wasn’t too bad:
– though it still doesn’t match the propaganda!
Back at home, on a hot day, we were glad of the pool to jump into!
Since then, the weather has got hotter and hotter; there’s always the threat of thunderstorms, but they haven’t materialised yet. (Do thunderstorms do that?) We’re eating our own-grown lettuce leaves, and lots of strawberries. Tomatoes are just visible. Last Thursday I took part in, and Carol attended, my first ‘Chorale’ concert. (No photos). A new style of performance for me – I’m not used to singing unaccompanied with lots of ‘doo-be-do-wah’s instead!
I think it’s time for a dip ….
FOOTNOTE:
Tuesday 3rd June, 4.30 pm:
Hallo, Lady Lucy! Wo warst du, denn? Where have you been?
A Carcassonne. A l’aéroport. THEY left me there.
THEY? I thought we weren’t to say that any more.
Don’t care! Je suis cuite.
What?
Cooked – fried – what you say? Frazzled.
But it’s not been hot till today.
Tu parles! J’en ai marre! I have had enough of HIM. And HE bashed me up in Carcassonne last week. HE backed me into a fence post. Look!
Those few scratches! That’s nothing. He practically pulled my tail light cluster right off back in Cumbria. I was stuck up with duck tape for months. He doesn’t mean to do it; he’s just a bit too hasty at times …..
Oops! Well, you’ll never get nowhere if you’re too hasty ….. I don’t suppose either of THEM would have come up with that.
Dordogne Holiday
Sunejo,Thursday, 22nd May 2014, c.17.50
Hallo, Lady Lucy!
Ah, Milord Harry, there you are! Where have you been? You did not send me any postcard;
I’ve only been away a week! And you haven’t been lonely, have you? People have been here, and you’ve been out and about.
How you know this?
That.
What?
It’s “How do you know that ”
Hm! Since when are you the expert teacher of the English?
I’m not. But anyway, there was a phone call. That’s how I know you’ve been out.
Je comprends …..So now, racontez – where do you go?
Did.
What?
“Where did you go?” or “Where have you been?”
C’est bizarre, ça!
We went to the Dordogne Valley. We left here at about 12.15 last Thursday –
Ah yes, I remember it well …..
– and travelled 300kms to the north. The weather was very fine and the snow on the Pyrenees is receding:
We crossed the River Lot:
and left the motorway at Souillac, where there is this magnificent railway viaduct, which SKT & CLT have often tried to photograph as we go by on the motorway, but never got a good one:
Then they got lost! Satnav couldn’t recognise the spot and the place we were looking for wasn’t on the signs! But just before 7pm we found ‘Soleil Plage’:
and we pitched up on an “emplacement” with this view of the Dordogne just a few steps away:
On Friday they put the awning up beside me, so more space to have, and they went to swim in this pool complex:
And on Saturday they did very little also, but make bookings to do a canoe trip on Sunday and hire a car for Monday and Tuesday. SKT must tell you about these things.
Yes, the canoeing was wonderful. The ‘base de canoë’ was just outside the campsite (at the ‘beach’) and we booked the ‘Parcours Nature’. The man took us to the starting point by minibus (with one other couple) and the canoes on a trailer behind and pushed us out onto the river. We then had all day (if we’d wanted) to go with the flow 10 kms downstream to get back to ‘Soleil Plage’.
We had plenty of time to study the river bank:
the Castle of Montfort:
and the birdlife: this is probably a black kite:
After about an hour we beached the canoe (on the second attempt – the current took us past the first spot we aimed for!) and enjoyed the little picnic we’d taken with us:
Then, after another hour, as we came round the ‘Cingle de Montfort’ (more later) and past the campsite, some friends we’d made, who had a riverside pitch just near Harry, took our photo as we paddled by:
They told us that several people had grounded their canoe in the shallow water to the left at that spot, so we felt a bit chuffed at avoiding that, and steering successfully in to the beach on the first attempt. A highlight of the holiday – the weather had been ideal; unbroken sunshine, but not so hot that we were constantly thirsty, sunburnt or exhausted.
We swam again – in the pool, not the river! – and that evening we treated ourselves to an excellent locally themed meal at the on-site restaurant.
[The arrival of a German party led to an ineresting exchange between them and the waiter which has prompted me to put a little rant on my neighbour blog ‘Daddy Says ….’ Have a look if you like, but be warned – it’s Esperanto propaganda!
]
Monday May 19th: Once we had the hire car we made our way downstream by road to see Beynac and ride in a different sort of boat, a ‘gabarre’, a flat-bottomed boat formerly used as river transport, taking, eg, nuts to Bordeaux and bringing back essentials, eg, wine.
Beynac, ‘un des plus beaux villages de France’, occupies a spectacular site and it’s castle remained in English hands – and loyal to the English kings – during the hundred years war,
whereas this one, on the other side of the river, changed loyalties several times. (It would then have been just the fortress, without the stately home.) It’s now owned by a Texan millionaire, not oil – the inventor of the car crusher, apparently.
The river trip, with effective commentary in French and English, afforded excellent views and interesting historical insights, so we were well pleased with it.
However, we then tried to find some gardens which we had been told were ‘absolument magnifique’. Once again, satnav let us down, we couldn’t find it on the map, and signage was inconsistent. We really were going round in circles, passing one school at least three times! Gardens are Carol’s thing and I was tired, so when we found it, I let her visit on her own. I fear she was disappointed. ‘Keep off the grass’ signs were everywhere and there’s a limit to how much topiary and how many box hedges one can enjoy in one place! Still here are a few of her pictures: 
Back at base we swam again and enjoyed a ‘Blanquette de Veau’ that we’d bought earlier – tinned, but tasty. Then we invited the neighbours, Mike and Sandra – that’s them in the water with Carol – to coffee and what would have been in ‘the library’ if we’d brought it with us!
Meanwhile, Harry chatted up the little white car – sorry, Lucy! 
Ca m’est égal. He can ‘chat up’ , as you say, who he want.
Hmmm ……
Tuesday 20th May 2014: Having the car for a second day, we set off for Rocamadour. However, our first stop was quite close by at the ‘Cingle de Montfort’. The information panel was missing from the rough parking area beside the road, but we later found out that ‘Cingle’ is a local word referring to a meander. It’s some bend! We took far too many photos of the river, saying “we’ve been down there”, and a few of the castle. Then I realised that the cliff behind us was perhaps even more interesting:
We picnicked overlooking an artificial lake at Gourdon, and made our way across country to Rocamadour, wondering whether SATNAV was choosing the best route (we decided later that she wasn’t). Rocamadour is certainly spectacular, but that said, both it and the ‘Grotte des Merveilles’ (no photos allowed) were disappointing. The road train ride from the car park at the bottom to the village added nothing either by way of views or information, for there was no commentary, and the narrow street was very ‘Mont St Michel’.
The visit to the cave (the ‘grotte’) took 80 minutes instead of the supposed 40 because, out of consideration for members of the group who spoke no French, the guide said everything twice!
We made our own route to get back to Soleil Plage, and were quite sure it was quicker, and more scenic, than SATNAV’s. We decided to go for a meal at a Pizza restaurant in the last village before Montfort, and just as we parked up the weather broke (we’d seen it coming) and we dodged the the first drops of what developed into a terrific storm.
The meal was good, but back chez Harry we found him surrounded by a sea of mud and began to wonder how we were going to dismantle and stow the awning (‘Harriette’!) and whether, indeed, we’d be able to drive off the pitch without slipping and sinking …..
Things were better in the morning, and Harriette was dry by the afternoon, thunderstorms were forecast so we bustled about and got everything packed up much more successfully than we had feared. As we emptied the tent of ‘stuff’ we found this gentleman lurking in a corner, and very reluctant to leave!:
We were just finishing puting the bikes on the rack (they would have been quite useful on site but one of the pedals seized up on mine which made riding it a bit tricky), when the first raindrops fell, at exactly 5.30pm. Within seconds we were experiencing the most terrific thunderstorm, torrential rain hammering on Harry’s roof, prolonged streaks of lightning and tremendous thunderclaps. I’d really liked to have seen more of it and tried some photos, but there was no suitable viewpoint without getting soaked! However, we still had that little white car with us; I’d waited half an our for the man on the car park, but he still hadn’t come for it! So when the rain eased off a bit we darted out and DROVE (!) up to the swimming pool to use the covered area. (There were three sections, covered and heated, outdoor and heated, outdoor unheated.) While we were there the hammering started again ….
We had a ‘three tin meal’ during which Mike came round to say the mud wasn’t too bad and we could get to their caravan after supper, if we didn’t mind taking footwear off in the awning before stepping in! We did that and played a closely contended rubber of bridge over a bottle of red wine. They won from game all, 90 all, for those who know what that means. It’s a bit like 2 sets each and 4 all final set in tennis.
The rain had stopped and when we stepped out of the caravan the stars were absolutely brilliant! However, that didn’t last, and in the small hours the flashes, crashes and hammering started again.
The morning was something else! All was calm and surprisingly dry. Grey, low cloud at first, but within minutes of sun-up, it had all burnt off. These photos couldn’t have been taken five minutes later, honest!
We’d packed everything except the picnic table and we’d ordered pastries, so we settled down to outdoor breakfast, together with the usual visitors:
The great tit was very tame and had perched from time to time on the ketchup bottle and the thermos as well as the seats and the table. We also had visits from, or saw, sparrows, a robin, blackbird, goldfinches, greenfinches and, we think, goldcrests.
But it was time to go. Harry moved off pitch without problems and we left the little car on the car park and the key at reception, which neither we nor the staff were very pleased about, but the man didn’t seem to think there was any issue.
Harry?
Ja?
Do you want to narrate the journey home?
There’s nothing to tell, really. You’ve gone on long enough. We stopped at Aire Jardin for lunch and the view of the Piebald Pyrenees was much clearer than sometimes and seen sooner – before Toulouse. And here we are – Lady? ….. She’s gone to sleep! I said you’d gone on too long.
……….
Maybe, but we have to say it was nice to swim in our own pool before enjoying a salmon and couscous supper that Judy and Carol prepared for us. Next day, Sunejo let the minders go:
and on the way to the airport we had lunch in Limoux – outdoors till another heavy shower drove us indoors for dessert:
(Lucy has actually woken up and told Harry about what happened at Sunejo while we were away. You can see that here:
http://carolthompson73.wordpress.com/2014/05/28/house-sitting/
We’re very grateful to Judi & Carol for coming over and looking after the house, the plants and the pool. It’s good that both we and they were lucky with the weather. So, who’s next?
HARRY COMES HOME
Sunejo, Thursday, March 27th 2014, 17.23:
Hallo, Lady Lucy!
Bonjour, Milord. How are you?
Ich bin müde, tired – fatigué.
Ah – you have voyaged, er – travelled much?
1,000 miles in four days!
Miles?
Er, 1,600 kilometres.
Oh, là! Racontez!
OK; Monday morning, we went into Wakefield to pick up HIS brother. –
Excusez-moi – whose brother?
HIS – M’sieur’s.
M’sieur S’s? Why you call HIM?
I’ve always called HIM ‘HIM’.
Well stop it, c’est peu gentil; how you say, not nice.
(Bossy as well as posh!) OK – I’ll use his initials; he likes that. We went to pick up SKT’s brother outside the hotel where he’d been staying, then we headed for the A1 –
L’autoroute?
Mmm, no – in England ‘Autoroutes’ are ‘Motorways’, so they are M1, M2 etc. ‘A’ roads are main roads, like your Routes Nationales. So we made for the A1 because the M1 is covered with road works – ‘travaux’ – and slow moving traffic. On the way south, they filled up with turkey salad (which Florence had insisted they should take with them after providing lunch on Friday) and SKT filled me up with diesel at Tesco’s near Welwyn.
(I didn’t ‘fill up’ actually; I tried to judge how much we needed to get to Calais.)
The M25 was free-flowing (‘fluide’ en français) so the journey round London to Surbiton didn’t take too long and at Porton Court Philip’s car had been placed on the visitor’s space near the gate to ‘keep’ it for me:
You can’t see it clearly, but that’s the first picture of my new skylight! (The big one above the hab. door.)
Once again the Thompsons resident at Porton Court knew how to give us a good end-of-stay – remember the trip on the river last time? A table had been booked at ‘The Grove’ and the meal was delicious, and British! The only drawback was that someone assured us it was only a short walk from Porton Court*; BOTH my hips objected to that! Yes, the left one has started playing up as well!
*Try saying “a short walk from Porton Court” out loud; then say it several times in front of a mirror – and try not to laugh!
But, SKT, you’ve driven me for most of 5,000 kms without once moving your leg by hand, so your right hip is better, isn’t it?
Yes, it is; but the consultant said to avoid long walks. But let’s not go on about whether or not the walk was long or short, the meal was excellent, and I didn’t ask anyone to fetch a car to go backwards after.
Hein? Il est fou, ce M’sieur S.!
That wasn’t me – it was the computer, it skipped…… ‘to go back afterwards’. 
Tuesday 25th March: On the road at about 9.15 and a fairly easy run to Dover, with one stop, and switching over to the M2 / A2 to drop directly onto the harbour and avoid the slow finish through Dover town. Easy check-in and on to a very lightly-loaded car deck. I understand they had a final taste of English food on board – Cumberland Sausage and Cornish Pasty were mentioned – so at Calais it was a quick exit onto the ‘autoroute’, but we pulled off at J 31 to fill up with diesel – SKT had judged very well how much to put in at Welwyn, as we were nearly empty! I met a ‘friend’ on the car park when SKT went into the Hypermarché:
We were there first – the other driver must have thought ‘If they can take four spaces, so can we!’ We stopped twice more on the way to Rouen, once at an ‘aire’ with a viewpoint over the Channel. –
LA MANCHE!
If you like:
But it was cold:
and the sculpture and display were all about wind, different names for winds and the noises they make:
And the other stop was at the old favourite, Baie de Somme – cold, wet and windy, but good shopping and nice coffee and cookies! We found the good way round Rouen – under the white cliffs – and so got to Ymare, where Daniel lives, soon after 7pm. Daniel provided me with electricity and THEM – sorry! SK & CLT – with a nice meal. The electricity was important because of the food in my fridge and because it froze during the night.
The food froze?
No! Not the food! the weather, le temps, la température.
Oh, pardon, je comprends maintenant.
Wednesday 26th March. Daniel had to leave for work before SK & CLT were ready, but that was OK as he had placed his car in front of me, so as to leave first. We left at 10 o’clock and stopped for elevenses –
For what?
Zweites Frühstück.
This doesn’t help.
Well, it’s very English, really; it’s a cup of tea or coffee or something that they drink halfway between breakfast and lunch.
C’est bizarre, ça! Elevenses ……
Well, anyway, they stopped for coffee and pastries –
Ah! Café et viennoiseries! You should have said.
They stopped at the aire just beyond St Rémy, then an hour or so later, after joining the motorway north of Orléans, they had lunch at the Aire du Héron Cendré: 
You see this sculpture as you pull in; SKT had to get out and have a fit of silliness. At Boismandé we found an adequate motorhome service point and let the grey water go, and we turned off the motorway at J31, just south of Limoges to fill up with diesel. Soon after that we were at Aire Porte de Corrèze and parked up for the night. SKT warmed up the Irish Stew kept in my ice-box since the visit to Florence (but taken out to thaw earlier in the day). Then he indulged in another fit of silliness – bananes flambées.
Why was this silliness, as you call?
Mensch! You didn’t see where the flames went!
(Fortunately, neither did Carol!)
We had driven 500 kms that day and were glad of a quiet night.
Thursday 27th March
This is not a bad view to wake up to – many a hotel guest has a less good one, or none at all!
After breakfast (café-criossant), we decided to take the scenic route to the building, to use the facilities and browse the shop. Down past the little lake:
Alongside the copse with the wood anemones in flower:
Over the little bridge: And up the steps.
One or two legs protested about this and to return to Harry we took the more direct, level route (round the car park).
So on the road again – at 11.15! But only 350 kms to go so the late start didn’t matter much. Elevenses at Aire Jardin des Causses du Lot, even after 12 o’clock, and lunch at about 1.30. The first view of the Pyrenées was welcome but difficult to photograph as the white of the mountain-tops merged with the pale grey of the sky:
A stop in Mirepoix for a bit of shopping and here we are.
……..
We are indeed – well done, Harry! A round trip of 5331 kms (3331 miles), of which 3147 kms (1966 miles) within England. That’s quite a lot of zig-zagging up and down the country! Sunejo was cold as we’d left the heat on anti-frost only, so we were very grateful to get a call from Nick and Carolyn Chez Maison Bleue with an invitation to supper. When we got back the house was noticeably warmer.
Two days later, while Carol was trying to deal with the 35-50 molehills which need to be removed before I can cut the grass, which in any case is too soggy to run the ‘tracteur’ over, we had another invitation, this one from Pam and Trevor who have found a property and signed the ‘Compromis de Vente’. So we went to their temporary home – the Gîte at Limbrassac – and enjoyed a scenic drive to view their home-to-be from the outside, followed by a lovely meal at the Gîte. Now we’ve lost another hour with the arrival of ‘summer’ time! That’s two ‘missing’ hours in one week! How time flies!
Harry to Lucy (2). S.K.T. fills in the details.
Liebe Lucy / Milady,
I continue to TRAVEL (not voyage!) a lot! And I have met people I also have not seen before, but first we went to Newcastle to visit Florence Kirkby, whom I have seen previously. THEY had lunch with her, which HE had cooked the night before and taken up the A1 (that’s a road) in a pot in my sink!
Then we went even further north and made our way to The Lee, near Longframlington, where lives an old friend of M’sieur S’s (as you name him). Steve and Louise Bray have this house at the top of a hill – some challenging bits on the way there! – with wonderful views to the front:
and behind:
[Steve was Head of Music at Boothville Middle School, Northampton, when I was Head of French there; we became good friends and have kept in touch over the 32 years since I left Boothville and the 29 years since I left Northampton.]
Steve and Louise had prepared a room for us (although we had said we would sleep in Harry), which was very kind and welcome as it was a cold night. But electricity was provided so Harry didn’t freeze (schön!), and that evening they took us down to Morpeth for a super supper at an Italian restaurant – NOT a mistaika to maika! Back at the house on the hill we showed photos and indulged in reminiscing till around midnight.
Goodnight, then. ….
Saturday 22nd March: HE had full English breakfast, SHE had café-croissant. Then I took them all out for the day.
(Not the cat!) We drove to Alnwick where I got left in a car park for a few hours – M’sieur S can tell you what THEY did – then later we went back over the hills to this place:
where THEY had a drink and admired the views. We took the friends back to The Lee, going through Rothbury on the way:
We could see The Lee across the valley some time before we got there:
Then I had to drive through this shallow ford and up a very steep, bendy hill to get to the houses:
We said goodbye (Au revoir) to the friends straightaway and drove back to Wakefield, with several stops on the way, including a sandwich-stop for THEM at Leeming Bar. Es war ein schöner Tag! – Une journée magnifique.
Danke, Harry; I’ll fill in some details. At Alnwick we visited the Castle Gardens. As we went in we noticed the tree house, which has a restaurant inside, and thought we would have lunch there:
However, we were disappointed to find it was fully booked for the day!
An outstanding feature of the gardens is the cascade and fountains:
We walked up beside the pool and through the arch at the top. On the way down we stopped to admire the garden’s oldest tree:
In the end we had lunch at the ‘Pavillion’, and it was very nice, but lacked the atmosphere of the tree house. We tried to get a view of the castle, but couldn’t really get to a good spot because this section of the garden was closed till next week:
We made our way back to Harry after a visit to the gift shop:
and got a better view of the castle (used as Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films) from the road as we drove round the town:
To travel in Harry, the ladies sat at the table, with Steve in the passenger seat:
After leaving Steve & Louise at their home, there was a pleasant farewell to this area as we crossed the river (The Coquet) in the evening light:
Harry had a ‘day off’ on Sunday 23rd March, which was a very special day and deserves a diary entry all of its own. Watch this space.
Postcards to Lucy 4th-20th March 2014
Hey, Harry!
Ja?
Why don’t you send Lucy a postcard or two?
Lady Lucy? Why should I do that?
Well, she might be lonely – you know what it’s like.
But she never talks to me; what language should I use?
Well, she is French, but I guess she’ll cope with English. Just add a few comments to some recent photos.
Na, gut.
Hallo, Lucy. This is me parked outside Chrys and Jan’s at Potter’s Bar, just after THEY paid for me to have a complete handwash on the car park at Tesco’s in Welwyn. Don’t I look white?
While staying at Potters Bar, I took THEM to Baldock to visit Hilde, who had also invited Kathy to lunch. THEY gave me a fill up, too!
Monday 10th March: We moved on to Surbiton to stay with HIS brother and Sister-In-Law, though THEY sleep in (Niece) Carol’s flat, which is just across the corridor.
Next day, Brother Philip lent THEM his BRAND NEW car to go to Peckham to visit Vik, Scout and Rosie! He hadn’t even driven it himself except back from the dealer’s!
Many thanks to GPT for that, and a big plus to LV who added us both to the insurance with no fuss and a very modest fee. We had a lovely few hours with Vik, who, along with Scout and Rosie, enjoyed looking at photos of previous encounters:
The stay at Surbiton finished with a meal at the Café Rouge with Philip and Carol Junior:
Thursday 13th March: We moved down to Bransgore, near Christchurch. It was fine and warm when we arrived and THEY enjoyed a cup of tea and an Eccles Cake (you don’t know what that is, Lucy, eh?) in the sunshine:
That evening THEY went down to Mudeford to have Abendessen (tea / dinner / supper – evening meal; what you call it varies not only with how big a meal it is, but also where you are. Here in Yorkshire it’s always ‘tea’) with Martyn and Jasmine at the pub on the quay.
THEY’ve both been coughing too much since Huddersfield, and with sore throat and eyes as well HE got the bike off my back on Friday morning and went to see a doctor. HE came back with a prescription for antibiotics, and instructions to have steam inhalations first. It was a pity to be unwell because the weather was fine and I could have taken them somewhere nice if THEY’d felt like going out. THEY also changed the plans for next week so as not to get to Wakefield while still possibly infectious – baby, you know!
Saturday 15th March: This afternoon THEY went to see how the work was progressing at Martyn & Jasmine’s new house in Mudeford. …. It’s progressing, in spite of ongoing problems with planning permission. There was quite a nice sunset that evening – though you get better ones in Sonnac, occasionally.
Sunday 16th March: We moved north again and parked up at Poynton, but straight away went on to Stockport to have dinner (Cheshire!) with Daniel. Back at Poynton, the night was quiet till the geese started cackling!
The final choice, after debate, for the next two nights, was to visit Wharfedale and stay on the Club site near Grassington. That was a fairly easy move, and the location is beautiful. But the rain started overnight and this was the ‘view’ through my front window on Tuesday morning:
Not much better through the side:
But I took them down to Skipton to visit Malcolm and Barbara Jones. HE and Malcolm go back many years as fellow Esperanto speakers (and actors). That evening they all went to a concert by a really international chamber orchestra. I sat in the car park and people seemed very happy as they came out afterwards.
Wednesday 19th March:Much better weather today:
Some people in a nearby caravan had set up a bird feeding station, which had attracted a big male pheasant in his ‘come-and-get-me’ colours and his lady friend, not to mention a pigeon:
We went down into Grassington and paid for two hours parking. In the village HE was playing the Grumpy Old Man:
That is, until after visiting the nearby retail outlet:
THEY had lunch before leaving the car park – good views – then we shopped at Morrison’s in Skipton and set off for what should have been just over an hour’s drive to Sharlston – it took nearly two hours! An absolutely dreadful stop-start route round Bradford. Really hard work for HIM and me. Never again, we hope!
But we got there just in time for Carol to prepare a nice fish pie for TEA, while I entertained Shannon – or was it the other way round? Anyway here she is after breakfast this morning:
HARRY’S BACK! (ON THE ROAD)
What happened to February? Not a lot, really. The weather remained very variable with only occasional days suitable for eating outdoors and although the grass is growing, there was no chance to cut it as the garden is more like a marsh than a lawn; final (we hope) visits were paid to hip and nose consultants and Carol continued to feed the hens at the Maison Bleue. Late in the month Pam and Trevor arrived to start house hunting and we we able to offer them breakfast on their first morning and next day we enjoyed lunch at the Gite they are renting for the next few months. Then Nick and Carolyn returned after their three and a half month absence and we prepared a meal for their first evening after travelling – and handed over responsibility for the hens. Oh, and Carol fell off her bike! It didn’t seem too serious at first, but after a week of ribs getting worse rather than better we went to see the doctor. As expected, he diagnosed bruised or maybe even cracked ribs for which there is no treatment other than time. We hoped the discomfort wouldn’t affect travelling and subsequent activities too much. Here’s Harry:
Ja, hallo! I’ve been stood outside ‘Sunejo’ for a long time now, doing nothing except one trip to Carcassonne, and trying to set up a relationship with Lady Lucy, that new car, but she doesn’t say much, so I just watch traffic. However, things began to happen mid-month; I got taken to the big supermarket at Laroque D’Holmes and filled up with diesel. HE checked oil and tyres and topped up the screen wash; then on Thursday Feb 20th SHE made up the bed and HE re-organised my garage. That day was quite fine and I think THEY had lunch on the terrace. There was a bit of a sunset, but nothing special:
Not like this one from earlier in the month:
More STUFF was brought out on Friday morning, when the weather had turned grey and drizzly, with a north wind which was stinging and cold, and finally, at about 12.30, which is late even for THEM, we got on the road, leaving Sunejo in the care of Lady Lucy; – and Nick and Carolyn.
Why ‘Lady’ Lucy?
Because she’s posh and doesn’t talk to me – not like Sally, who was cheeky but fun.
Hmmm ….
There were no snow-capped Pyrenees in sight to wave to or photograph – it was probably actually snowing up there – and the first stop was the Motorhome place in Pamiers; when Carol pulled the bike cover out of the shed THEY found the mice had nibbled it – one tear just got worse even before we’d gone very far, so we made a little detour to get a new one. After that, and a lunch break at the first toll station, it was brm-brm to the ‘usual’ service area just south of Limoges, arriving about 8.30 and THEY had a pre-cooked meal of duck legs in orange sauce. We did stop once on the way and a robin was perched in the bushes, watching the car park:
Another late start on Saturday, and a long pause at J.37, not just for fuel, but for HER to buy some trainers, then onwards through the rain and the wind. No photos – the weather wasn’t helpful and THEY’ve photo’d most of the rivers and so on before. Finding the preferred route through Rouen without either going through the city centre, or following the long signed detour to the west, was a relief, so we parked at Bosc Mesnil services at about 7.45. not a favourite area, but it’s there in the right place.
Next morning THEY heard the shipping forecast; warnings of gales in all areas except Dover, Wight and Portland! Phew! We paused at Baie de Somme, as usual, and took the opportunity to charge the computer while checking e-mails. THEY let me get very short of fuel, but got to the supermarket near J. 31 just in time (not the same motorway as J. 37 near Limoges!) At Calais THEY had a quick lunch on the quayside and then we boarded the ferry. I was parked right at the front in the open air, which was good for a quick exit at Dover, but I got several showerings of salty water from the waves during the crossing. Could have done without that!
What is it about coffee these days? Even on the ferry that big firm with the high cost a coffee has taken over! I never know what to ask for, and none of it is worth the price. I asked for a small latte – it was huge; I got Carol an espresso – it was about a thimble-full! I should have settled for the Cognac on its own!
The choppiness of the crossing – the least smooth we’ve had for some time, but it wasn’t a problem – is best seen on this picture of the waves as we came in to Dover harbour:
After Dover we made good progress to the M25 and stopped at the services after the Dartford crossing.
We do like French food, but Steak and Ale Pie and Fish n Chips went down very well!
At least you two weren’t running on empty!
Nor were you!
Nearly ….. After that, we went on to the Caravan Club site at Welwyn Garden City, arriving just in time for the (theoretical) deadline of 8pm.
Monday 24th Feb: Water jobs in the morning before getting on the road and taking a wrong turning, so getting to the M1 by a cross-country route took longer than it should have, then the journey North was very slow, with long sections of road works and 50mph speed limits. But we got to Huddersfield in time for THEM to enjoy a meal with the family at their new home in Linthwaite. Later, we moved to the Manse in Golcar so that I could be parked round the back and get electricity from the garage.
The removal from Golgar to Linthwaite – across the valley – was ongoing. Most of the big furniture had already been moved, but there was a lot of packing and transporting still to do. For the next two days it seemed best that we could help by taking the Grandchildren, S & N, out for the day. Meals in Harry were a treat and on day 1 we visited Castle Hill:
An impressive site with lots of space and splendid views:
Any doubts about the efficacy of the treatment to my hip should have been dispelled when I dealt with these steps:
and that after driving Harry for most of four days without once needing to lift my right leg manually to get it to move from the gas to the brake (which I was doing before!). I even did some running around one day, chasing the children round the Chapel car park for a few minutes. So it is obviously greatly improved, but some days it feels ‘heavy’ and a bit sore, so it’s not perfect! And in any case, the consultant says I should still avoid long walks, which is a bit of a pity.
We called at the garden centre on the way back, where N showed promise, again, as a photographer; how’s this for a four year old? –
Not the fish! – the age of the child who took the photo!
Day 2 found us at Greenhead Park, a huge area with many attractions, of which the tower with its rope walk approach and slide off was the favourite:
On Thursday (27th) Carol, Chris and I (and Harry) had a complete change of scene and activity. Before leaving home we’d heard the sad news that my Cousin Norman had died, aged 92. Norman and Marjorie had been part of my life forever and were regular visitors to various homes, including Garth View. So I was pleased to be nearby at the time of the funeral, which was in Leeds. The ceremony was wonderfully presented by the family themselves, with moving tributes from Chris (Norman’s son) and Paul (Grandson) and Louise (Granddaughter) while Martin (Grandson) introduced and led the service. It was good to see the family again, together with David (Sparkes) and Dottie, and we enjoyed tea and cake at Dyneley House where Norman lived for the last six years.
The next days – right through to Sunday morning – were spent clearing and cleaning the Manse and ferrying everything to Linthwaite. Harry was very useful –
Ho! Danke schön.
Non – c’est nous! You are French again, you know.
Wirklich? Ich hatte vergessen ….
Very useful, carrying stuff from one house to the other, some of which was too big to go into Chris & Michelle’s little car.
That’s Harry outside the new home – the one with the fence. From the back of the house, which can be accessed down this ginnel:
[A bit of architectural history; these terraces were originally back to back houses. Built on a steep hill the back house, with no road access, comprised the lower ground floor and the back part of the ground floor; the front house, opening on to the road, had the front of the ground floor and the whole of the first floor. Most of them have now been combined into single houses, but nos. 726 and 732 are still separate homes, hence the arrow to 726 above the ginnel, seen on the photo.]
….. there’s a splendid view across the valley to Golgar, seen both from the house’s windows and the little garden, from where the ground drops steeply to the river and the canal:
The large, many-windowed building in the centre of the photo is Golgar Baptist Chapel, with the Manse hidden behind it:
Carol worked stoically on the cleaning (she’s come away with a nasty cough, but the ribs seem better!) and the job was finally completed (I think) at about midday on Sunday, when Harry and the little Jazz took the final items, including the vacuum cleaners, round (not ‘across’!) to Linthwaite, after the family had taken a last look through the Manse to say goodbye to it, quite a ‘wrench’ for all of them, but we wish them well and feel they’ll soon settle into the new home.
We unloaded those final items then left for a special Pub Lunch at the Bulls Head (further up the hill!)
After that we said goodbye on the carpark and followed ‘Snooper’s directions to join the M1 near Sheffield. Harry?
That was dreadful! Not so much the cross-country route to the motorway, but the weather, the traffic and the road works from then on. We had plenty of time – in theory – to get to Welwyn, but once again we arrived on the last minute.
Next morning – here’s a surprise – we were up at 6.30 and road ready, without breakfast, but having done water jobs, soon after 8.30. The reason was that we both had appointments at Specsavers in Welwyn with Carol first at 9. (We’ve been told that even if we have to pay everything, specs are still less expensive in the UK than in France.) We both need new ones and we expect them to be ready on our next return from Yorkshire in a few weeks’ time.
After that, we had time on our hands and looked for a full English breakfast. First we tried Tesco’s but we were disappointed as the café was one of those pretentious coffee places where the choice bewilders me and none of it is what I want. But we did some shopping and meanwhile Harry got a complete hand wash (for £20!) and he now looks brighter and whiter than since he joined us in 2010!
Ja! Wunderschön! Merveilleux! Brilbrile!
Coo – Esperanto as well! He must be happy. We went on to South Mimms where we did get that breakfast. Yummies!
Was ist denn dass? What sort of language is that?
Me-talk. We still had time to spare, so we sat over coffee (in Harry) and did a puzzle. Then we came on to Chrys and Jan’s in Potters Bar. We had a lovely roast chicken dinner and today, apart from Carol getting her hair cut, we’ve just ‘chilled out’.
Here are some pictures to finish:
N looks out on the view after scrambled egg in Harry at the foot of Castle Hill:
Grandad doing what Grandads do:
And two key players in the narrative; Carol and Harry:
‘Key player’? Schlüsselspieler? Clé joueur? I don’t get it ……
YEAR 2 BEGINS AT SUNEJO; we get a new car, our first visitor returns and new ones arrive.
So we’ve seen the year round! 
For those who might be interested, and haven’t found them already, I’ve put an album of representative pictures on Facebook, https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100006348009110 – don’t know whether that works; someone can try it and tell us. (OK! I tried and it does.)
The second year began as did the first – with a visit from (Cousin) Mark, by motorbike:
He had better weather than last year and we were free to entertain (no removal men!) so we fitted in a trip to Andorra where a mountain biking event was taking place below the cable car;
and one to Puivert Castle: 
Though a heavy shower opened up just before Mark and Carol got back to the car where I was waiting for them – warm and dry!
Ah, car; yes. We set about finding a replacement for Sally as soon as we got back from England. We found this Citroën C3 in ‘Lucifer Red’, and she’s a former driving school car, which appealed in a quirky sort of way:
I said that with that colour description, it was as well the number plate was 777, not 666! We toyed with calling her ‘Cerise’, but on the way home Carol suggested ‘Lucy’ and so she is. She’s not as excitable as Sally, who used to squawk if you set off with your belt not fastened, even for a short manoeuvre on a car-park. Lucy just jingles politely; and she’s very good at drawing attention to open doors, or key left in the ignition – she even tells us how many kms we can go before we have to fill up.
We have less good news of Harry; the place we called at in Pamiers haven’t got us a new skylight yet and we’re worried about wet weather approaching. We also didn’t dare use him for excursions with the next visitors, which was a bit disappointing.
The day after Mark left we welcomed Trevor and Pam – we stayed with Trevor for three weeks last year while Harry was having that major repair, then in January we went to their wedding. Even without Harry, we enjoyed the ‘usual’ excursions, with trips to Mirepoix on Market Day:
The Church in the Rock at Vals:
A look at the castles of Montségur and Roquefixade:
Carcassonne, on a drizzly day, when Harry would have been really useful (for eating in):
A picnic by the Aude:
followed by a ride on the Train Rouge:
and a drive up – and down Galamus Gorge:
followed by an eve-of-birthday dinner for Pam at Mike’s (Café du Fleuve in Quillan) – Pam & Trevor’s invitation, thank you!
More eating and another willing waiter (to take the photo) next day during Pam’s birthday trip to Andorra; this is at our now ‘usual’ eat-as-much-as-you-like buffet restaurant:
We were a bit disappointed that the cable cars weren’t running – possibly due to insufficient custom between seasons – but since T & P were visiting by car they made the most of the shopping opportunities, contributing adequately to the Principality’s economy. As for photography, cows and horses beside, or even on, the road seemed to be the main ‘focus’ of attention:
During stay-at-home days, Pam & Trevor enjoyed the pool, and were the first of our visitors to do so. Trevor even had a pre-breakfast dip a couple of times, which I haven’t done yet! No photos of any of that, but there’s a nice stay-at-home one to close with: (Peace, Pedants! John Humphreys says prepositions at the end of sentences don’t matter; who am I to argue?!)
We leave Sally in Lincoln and head for home, via Potters Bar, Surbiton and Rouen.
Here are the two missing photos from the last entry. First, Carol and Rachel in the garden with Baby and the jealous cat:
Then Mother and Baby:
So, wo ist meine Freundin?
Ah, where’s your little friend, yes ….. First things first – lets write about you. We got on the road in good time on Friday morning, 23rd, and made good progress to Hitchin, only to discover within minutes that the replacement skylight they had for us was the WRONG ONE! Much too big. Nothing for it but to ask them to check and strengthen the temporary repair and hope to get home with that. We did some shopping and went on to Welwyn.
So, wo ist die Sally?
I’m coming to that! It rained quite a lot overnight Friday- Saturday, and was still drizzling a bit when we got up early and hooked up the vehicles. Carol put her anorak on and was stung on the neck by a wasp lurking inside the hood! This is bad news – she’s allergic to wasp stings! I treated her with anthisan, solpadeine and piriteze, so that by the time we got to where we were going, near Lincoln, she was more or less blotto! Still, the nice lady made us a coffee and the rain had stopped. There was a new motorhome for Sally to travel with and, believe it or not, a dog called Harry! A very friendly dog who wanted us to play ball with him. The ball was a squeaky ball, and the lady explained that the dog was blind!
But to serious business; husband being away a male friend had been drafted in to check the car out. He and the lady took Sally for a run. We played ball with Harry – not you!
I don’t play ball.
No, you don’t, do you? Man, lady and Car returned. Lady always wanted a red car! Deal done. Money handed over in brown envelope. Stephen, Carol and Harry, the Motorhome, left. Sally stayed with the Lady and Harry, the blind dog.
So, die Sally ist nicht mehr bei uns?
You catch on quick, Harry! No, she’s not with us anymore.
That’s a bit sad!
It’s a lot sad, but there we are.
We stopped for lunch in a layby, and drove off without securing the thermos ….. it rolled and smashed!
It was a long day. Bad weather, the wasp, the flask, and much more driving than I had realised. Not to mention the other matter. We were very grateful for a nice meal and a bed in Potters Bar.
Next day was a short run round the M25 to Surbiton, where family gathered for ‘apéro’ at Porton Court and then for dinner at Café Rouge:
A good time – and a good meal – was had by all, then there was more drinking, photos and music back at Porton Court.
A DAY ON THE RIVER : With his birthday coming up later in the week, Philip and Christine had decided to invite us and other friends, Fiona, Max and Dominic for a day out on the Thames, followed by dinner (our invitation) at Harts, the riverside pub. With excellent weather throughout, this day was a delight, and choosing just a few photos is very difficult. I shall share many others on SkyDrive, unless someone suggests a better hosting site.
Taken by one of the lock keepers, this photo shows the whole party:
I have to confess that previously I didn’t know there were locks on this section of the Thames, but we went through three, both up and down. Sometimes we were first in:
At other times there was congestion:
We picnicked regally with contributions from everyone, and a (more than) ample supply of wines and cider!
Throughout the day, our mascot, Max’s (nameless) parrot, drew amused / admiring glances from other boats and folk on the banks:
As we got near Surbiton on the return leg, a birthday cake was produced from somewhere, and Philip did the biz with the knife while we sang Hippo Birdie for him. (Actually, after the wine and cider, I’m not sure what we sang!)
At Harts, the boatyard with the pub, some of us disembarked and others went back to the point of hire to return the boat and transfer all the stuff to the cars. Once reassembled the party enjoyed a meal overlooking the river:
And although Fiona, Max and Judi left us after that, the rest repaired to Porton Court for some more chat and music – maybe a nightcap, too. What a great day! Thank you.
Next morning, there was a mist over the river:
and even a hint of fog, but it soon cleared and we made good progress to Dover. Another smooth crossing, and so to visit Daniel (French colleague and friend, not Carol’s son) at Ymare, near Rouen. We enjoyed a meal of salade de tomates – homegrown by Daniel’s Mother, who was there with him, nursing a broken wrist – and roast chicken. We showed photos of grandchildren and Sunejo and retired to Harry for the night, parked on Daniel’s drive.
The rest of the journey home was uneventful. We know the route now and the weather was fine, getting steadily hotter as we came south. We spent the second night parked in the same space at Porte de Corrèze as on the way north almost a month ago. We ate paupiette de saumon (stuffed salmon fillets) provided by Carrefour supermarket and fresh blackberries picked from the hedgrow beside Harry!
As in England, late summer is not the most attractive of seasons; autumn has yet to enliven the tired green of the trees,
and harvested fields are dull brown where once they were golden; maize fields are brown-topped, and heavy-headed sunflowers droop in the heat, as if waiting for the chop which can’t be long in coming now.
We stopped at a motorhome dealer’s in Pamiers and ordered a replacement skylight for Harry, and shopped in Mirepoix. And so to Sunejo, nicely cared for by Nick & Carolyn for almost a whole month, and with hedge trimmed and grass cut by Ian, whom we had employed to attend to such things.
1,145 kms (716miles) from Surbiton and a round trip of 4,191kms (2,619miles). Plus additional miles in Sally. We’re sorry to have parted from our cheeky little friend, but plans are in hand for a replacement – a sort of big sister, but more of that next time. Thanks again for hospitality and friendship; we’ve had a great month. And thanks for reading all about it – if you have!
Golcar to Sharlston, with complications!
Let’s begin this post with thanks to Chris & Michelle for their hospitality last week. We remember the regal roast beef, the stunning stir-fry, the licious chicken pie, the succulent salmon and the chumptious chilli. Then, of course there was the brilliant breakfast on Saturday morning.
We left the family after lunch at the Garden Centre on Saturday afternoon. Then – Harry?
Ja?
What happened next?
We went to Wakefield.
He does not want to tell you, because he’s being a nuisance again. He keeps letting you down and costing money. I don’t do that; je sius très sage, moi.
Yes, you are, very good.
So you’re selling the wrong one!?
We’d love to keep you both, but we have explained why we think we can’t.
I will tell the story; we set off from Golgar with Harry pulling me –
Dass war schwer – hard work up that hill!
Then we joined the motorway and went over to Yorkshire. Suddenly – bang! Big Harry had blown his top!
Well, our first thought was that the main skylight had blown off. We pulled onto the hard shoulder and and called the highways agency. Fortunately there had been no sign of damage to other vehicles or accident caused by swerving, so the nice man on the phone said he’d treat it as debris on the carriageway and a crew would come along and try to retrieve the skylight if possible. The fact that no other driver had reacted to the incident should have been a clue as to what had really happened, but for now we waited till the patrol vehicle turned up and said they hadn’t seen it.
We re-joined the carriageway, with the internal blind drawn across the space – that was silly! – then another bang, knocking and the blind was shredded! But the skylight was still on the roof – it hadn’t blown off, it had ‘flipped’. Damaged beyond repair, it was retrievable from inside, with only a little bit still attached, which quickly gave way.
Now the main thing was to get to Oakleigh Close and see what could be done before the rain set in. Rachel and Sean weren’t there, but we let ourselves in as planned and found a ladder in the garage. It was starting to rain.
Now, I’m a bit of a wimp where ladders are concerned, and kneeling on Harry’s roof in a heavy shower trying to secure the remnant of the skylight and a bin bag with tape that wouldn’t stick to the wet surface. I did both as much and as little as I could, then tried to get down ….. well, I did get down, but not without some difficulty.
Rachel, Sean and Shannon arrived as the rain eased off; equipped with towels to dry the roof and some stronger bags, Carol went up the ladder (she’s tougher than I am – and doesn’t have a dodgy hip) and did a more thorough job on fixing the skylight.
Sean took a picture from his office window:
Not quite the easy transfer from Golgar to Sharlston we had anticipated
Sunday morning and Shannon joined us for breakfast:
Later on, a lively service at Destiny Church was to have been followed by a ‘family sports day’ and picnic. Everyone had set up their picnic furniture in the nearby park and was watching the games, when we were treated to another of these April showers (?) and a mass retreat took us back into the church building (a converted theatre) for the picnic. I thought it was time to take a picture of the proud parents instead of The Baby:
But that didn’t last!
HARRY GETS REPAIRED AND SERVICED, SALLY SULKS, AND WE RELAX A BIT.
This is the notice that has upset Sally so much:
Sunday (4th) was uneventful, really. THEY had café-croissant at Baie de Somme services and we travelled on through very fine weather – which is unusual for us in Picardie – stopping for fuel at a Centre Commercial just off the motorway before Calais and for lunch at Epitre, where, on other occasions, we’ve spent the night.
We’ve never seen Calais’ beach looking so inviting! 
The Channel Crossing was ‘millpond’ smooth – in fact, I’ve seen choppier millponds, and seemed to go quite quickly; well, it was only half an hour (!).
Leaving Dover was slow, but we weren’t stopped, unlike others around us – we can’t look guilty however hard we try!
Then we motored on to Bransgore, near Christchurch. Christchurch is in Dorset, but Bransgore is in Hampshire. That day we’d done 468kms, making 1,369kms from Sunejo. That’s about 855 miles. I need a rest!
We parked up on the pitch which had been reserved for us, with a notice in the window to tell us where it was although the office was closed, and had a ‘3 tin’ meal for supper.
Monday 5th August: up fairly early to take Harry to see Ben, who did the major repair last year. An oil leak needed sorting, but it was nothing to do with the previous repair. The weather was wet so we spent the rest of the morning at the garden centre where they have a café with free wi-fi. –
And how did you get from Ben’s workshop to the garden centre? Was I there or was I not there? Was I any use at all? And what would you have done if Harry had not been fixed on that day? Would you have gone anywhere or just been stuck?
We wouldn’t have slept in you, that’s for sure. But of course, you were very useful, and have been all the time – do you want to write a bit of the diary?
Non.
Right. (I wish she’d stop sulking – we’re probably not going to sell her anyway; the people from the Isle of Wight who were going to meet us because they wanted a car already equipped to be towed have made other arrangements.) We’d been there so long that we thought we should have lunch at the garden centre, then we browsed and bought some stuff, like birdfood and citronella flares which were on BOGOF. Meanwhile we had contacted Martyn (Carol’s Brother) and agreed to meet him and Jasmine at the pub in Bransgore later that evening.
Tuesday 6th: I had an appointment with the Chiropractor in the morning. We do know now what’s been wrong with THAT leg for the last year. My French Doctor finally sent me to have it x-rayed, and we can see that all the cartilage has gone from the hip joint. So it’s just a matter of time until I say ‘let’s have a replacement’. Meanwhile, no serious walking; swimming OK, also cycling.
Wednesday 7th: a lazy day. We called on Martyn & Jasmine in the evening and we also went looking for Trevor and Pam. (Trevor is the Esperanto speaker whom we stayed with last year while Harry was being repaired and we went to his wedding with Pam in January.) However, for the second time when we’ve been in Mudeford since the wedding, they were away.
Thursday 8th: Another session with the Chiropractor, then back to the caravan park to collect Carol AND SALLY –
Huh!
And we got on the road for Welwyn. Once parked up there, Sally, what happened next?
I took you into Potters Bar to Carol’s Brother’s house.
You did. And there we met the first of the babies, not to mention Arnie, the dog:
This is Sophie (the Baby, that is), the daughter of Nick and Ceri whose wedding we went to in Wales in October.
Ah, oui! I did that. Harry was not present. You see, I can be very useful.
No-one ever said otherwise.
Friday 9th: took Harry to Hitchin to have his hab. service, and a couple of other jobs. But one job couldn’t be done because parts are needed, so we’re going to come back in two weeks. Sally?
Oui?
Do you want to say what we did while Harry was being worked on?
Ummm …… si tu veux. I took you to Baldock to see Hilde.
Where we had elevenses, or ‘zweites Fruhstück’. Very welcome, thanks, Hilde!
Then I took you back to get Harry.
And after browsing motorhomes and the accessory shop, buying a table and a solar battery charger, we travelled in convoy via Tescos back to the Caravan Club site at Welwyn.
Hailstorms, busy motorways and ROUEN!
…… what should have been a quiet night ! Ha!
Soon after we settled down a terrific thunderstorm kicked off. At first, it seemed like it was going to be thunder and lightning only, like one we’d had at home a few days earlier, but then the rain started, followed by the hail. (This would NOT have been a good time to have had to change the gas bottle, so thank fortune that we had had to do it at home!) The battering was horrendous – we couldn’t see the hailstones, but they must have been a fair size. Also, we seemed to be pretty near the centre of the storm, not only because of the almost continuous flashing and crashing, but because the rain and hail came round three times! So it went on till about 3.30 in the morning.
By 7 o’clock you’d think nothing had happened! Warm sunshine had dried everything up and there was no visible sign of damage to either vehicle.
You haven’t seen my roof!
That’s true.
I’m OK; I’m still sellable, so you do not need to worry about that.
Don’t be sarcy!
Sarcy! Moi? You have to ask where I got that from.
….… Our little parking circle was full of cars and people having breakfast from the boot; there were other motorhomes, too. I went to get some croissants and so on for breakfast – the main car park was heaving! People were circling looking for spaces, then giving up and parking on kerbs, against hedges, anywhere. The restaurant was busier than it had been the previous evening (when it had been busy enough) and the staff were working very hard. But I was served with a smile and the usual courtesies, and set off back to Harry and Carol. It was a comparatively long walk and that leg didn’t like it, but we enjoyed our breakfast.
‘back to Harry and Carol’ – I wasn’t there, then.
The breakfast was for Carol, and we sat in Harry to eat it – that’s what I meant.
Tu parles.
The busy-ness, of course, was due to the fact that it was the first Saturday in August, and the start of the great French getaway.
Ja, but fortunately for us the French were all heading south. During the day we saw lots of slow-moving traffic on the other side of the motorway, but our side was flowing well. Of the people who overtook us, many were Brits, Belgians and Dutch returning from a very hot holiday in the south, or in Spain.
This was a long day; we did 549kms, stopping for fuel at Limoges, of course – THEY’ve learnt their lesson about that and eventually finding parking spaces for elevenses (about 12 o’clock) and lunch; at every service area the spaces marked for Motorhomes and Caravans were occupied by cars, so in the end we just stopped for lunch at the side of the exit road from the service area; others were doing the same. As we went along we occasionally saw some MEN with GUNS (boys in blue in UK terms) and wondered whether they would stop us because of the towing, but they took no notice.
(Sexist remark alert! : I don’t like seeing armed police as routine, but if there’s one thing that worries me more than MEN with GUNS, it’s WOMEN with GUNS! What a dreadful thing to say!)
And as for being stopped, we couldn’t count the number of illegal bike racks we saw, all travelling freely with unreadable number plates.
At Rouen THEY were hoping to find the route THEY took going the other way last time in Sally –
Between the white cliffs and the river, I remember! Nice of you to mention me; Merci, Harry!
Kein Problem! BUT, although SATNAV was set for Darnétal, THEY didn’t find the correct river crossing and by trying to avoid the long diversion as signed, we ended up in that dreadful crawl which is the centre of Rouen.
And this time there weren’t even any Christmas lights to cheer THEM up as we inched forward at between 0 and 3 miles an hour for about twenty minutes.
‘Inched forward’ – as a European, shouldn’t you say ‘centimetered forward’ ?
Dass ist aber Blödsinn! Napoleonic nonsense!
Once over the river we began to move more freely and, as always, after the tunnel, vrrooommm! So we got to the Bosc Mesnil service Area at about 7.45pm and parked up. This is where we spent New Year’s Eve.
Parking wasn’t easy, because of cars in the caravan bays, but we managed and shunted to a better spot once someone else had moved. The weather was better than Dec 31st, complete with sunset:
But the lorry park was busy and some wagons had fridges going all night, so it wasn’t quiet! However, we indulged in our classic ‘Lapin Au Van’, prepared at home last week and brought along as a ‘square’ meal (i.e. frozen in a block).
The building work which was going on at Bosc Mesnil in December / January seems to be complete, but we weren’t impressed. You might expect a new building to have automatic doors, not push-pull-collide-with-folk-coming-the-other-way doors. You would expect a new motorway restaurant to offer wi-fi and to stay open well into the evening. We know it had been a busy day, but the loos weren’t as clean as we expected, nor were they at seven in the morning. And I expected the enquiry about wi-fi to be treated to some sort of expression of regret, not ‘pas du tout, Monsieur’. We won’t make a point of going there again, but it is in a good place so we may give it another chance.
A TRIP TO ANDORRA AND SALLY GETS WIND OF SOME BAD NEWS …..
C’était le 31 juillet, M’sieur and M’dame decided to go up to Andorra and buy some stuff, in bottles. –
It wasn’t all in bottles; we bought some other stuff as well.
C’est possible. There were a lot of bottles. After driving over the hill from Pas De La Case, THEY decided to take a ride on a cable car, which THEY have been talking about every time we go up there, but they haven’t done it before.
Yes, we thought it was time to find out what it was like. There was a large multistorey car park as part of the base station, and there was no queue; it would probably be rather different during the winter months.
Though in spite of the 3-week heat wave, there were still patches of snow to be seen near the summits. This particular cable car ride keeps going all year by exploiting other possibilities than skiing. Some of the cabins are equipped with external bike racks – see second photo – so the mountain bikers go up in the cable car and then ride down:
Then at the top there’s a golf course:
After that we did some more shopping and headed for home, arriving in time for a sunset swim.
It was a nice drive, as always, in spite of the extra weight to bring back, but I was a bit worried about something …. I kept hearing remarks about ‘if we sell her’ or ‘what if we don’t sell her?’ … Ils ne parlent pas de moi, sûrement? THEY wouldn’t do that …. would they?
We really did work hard to try to be ready for an early start on Friday morning, packing up everything except the contents of the fridge and hooking the vehicles up just inside the gate, as we did once before, but in spite of getting up before seven o’clock on Friday, it was still after midday before we got away. One issue was that as a first job I put Harry’s fridge on using the gas and during the morning the gas bottle reached empty! It was probably better to have to change it at home than later in the dark and a hailstorm, but it took time. Another thing was that there was far too much stuff in the big house fridge then Harry’s little one could take – bad planning! – and then at the last minute we couldn’t find Carol’s car key. She’d slipped it into a pocket of the apron she put on to help change the gas bottle, then completely forgotten it. We spent about half an hour searching …..
Ja, und es war heiss beim warten! It was hot, waiting for THEM in the sun. But endlich we did get away and drove past the fields of sunflowers:
on the way to fill up with diesel at Pamiers.
But now I know! They said ‘say goodbye to your abri’ before we left and they put a notice in my back window about this little car being for sale! …….. So it’s true; THEY don’t love me any more!
Yes, we do!
Then why are you trying to get rid of me?
Sally, it isn’t like that; but we really need a French car now –
But I am French!
Well, you’re a French make, but you’re made to be used in Britain – your steering wheel is on the right hand side, and anyway rules about towing are different in France and the A Frame is illegal. Not only that; but I’ve change my licence for a French one, and it doesn’t include towing, unless I have a medical. I didn’t know that when I changed it – I thought these things were standard across the European Union.
Well, that’s not fair …
Whoever said life was going to be fair, even for a car, was lying.
So what ARE you going to do if no-one buys me?
Hmmm ….. we haven’t decided yet. But anyway, here’s a picture of the first lunch stop on the way north, with you and Harry taking a break in the shade:
SUNEJO’S FIRST FULL HOUSE
Regular readers will remember that we had our first visitor (Mark) the day the furniture arrived, then another single (Daniel) at Christmas. Rachel and Sean came in February, and now we’ve had a ‘full house’ with the visit of Philip, Christine, Carol & Judi. However, there’s still the room above the garage, Harry wasn’t used as a spare room, and no tents were put up in the garden, so there’s still plenty of space!
The first step in receiving four visitors arriving with luggage at an airport is to hire a car big enough! Harry and Sally can seat only four people each including the driver, so the alternative is to go in convoy. Here in France most of the big supermarket chains do car and van hire so we chose our regular Super U in Mirepoix and booked a 7-seater Qashqai which we picked up on Saturday evening May 18th, ready to head for Toulouse on Sunday morning.
Toulouse welcomed our visitors with a torrential thunderstorm before they even got into the car – fortunately we were all under cover. But Toulouse is two counties away and as we came through Arriège skies cleared and snow-capped Pyrenees were in sight.
The improving weather meant that by the time we reached Camon, the little village just over the county boundary from here, there was sunshine. This was fortunate, both for us and for the village, where this was their biggest day of the year. Camon’s ‘Fête Des Roses’ is an annual event which draws visitors from miles around. You can find information and pictures by entering ‘Fête Des Roses, Camon’ in your search engine, and I’m spoilt for choice as to which of our photos to show here. We were very lucky to park that big car right opposite the little snack van, ‘La Camonette’ where we had lunch. (It’s a French pun, which is very unusual; a Camionette is a van.)
Furniture is organised, drinks are in hand, now all we need is FOOD! (The big black car is centre left, behind Philip’s hat – how do you tag a car?)
Roses grow round almost every door in Camon and most were in full bloom, obligingly:
Local crafts and produce were on sale beside every street and up and down every alley, as were plants, herbs, and lots of rose bushes.
We bought olives and garlic and ginger, as well as a couple of patio plants.
Eventually tearing ourselves away from ‘one of the prettiest villages in France’ we drove the remaining five minutes over the county boundary to Sunejo, which, for that day at least, was living up to its name.
Once settled, people decided that a walk down to the river might be a good idea. Last time we took photos down there, there was a big log jam against the bridge; that has now been cleared:
Back at home, a leg of lamb had been in the slow cooker since 8am and, although this was no ‘perfect’ summer’s evening, dinner was served on the terrace. An unusually good sunset followed.
A priority on Monday morning was to go to Mirepoix and add Philip, Carol and Judi to the paperwork at Super U so that they could drive the car if needed. This didn’t add to the cost but the shop needed to see and photocopy their licences – cards and counterparts. That done, we went into the town to see the special Whit Monday market. (Some readers will remember when England had Whit Monday!) The market was a special ‘Brocante et Foire aux Plantes’ – Second hand goods and plant fair, so some of the same garden stalls were there as at Camon the day before. Again, spoilt for choice as to photos:
One of the cafés under the arcades is entirely vegetarian so that provided a suitable light lunch for everyone, then we went to look at the Eglise Rupestre, or Church in the Rock, at Vals:
A very unusual spot which we’ve been meaning to look at since we first saw the signs to it and Mark told us about it. You go in through a crack in the rock:
Then make your way up three levels:
Stopping to admire the Frescos on level two, or even taking time to study them:
Before emerging onto a balcony, with panoramic views towards the (snow-capped) Pyrenees.
Passing back through Mirepoix on the way home, the Nieces decided to investigate the ‘Voie Verte’, the long distance footpath, formerly the railway line which links Mirepoix, Camon, Sonnac and Chalabre, then on to Lavelanet.
They reported on a pleasant walk:
with excellent scenery, including views of the mountains:
But at Camon it was time to call in and say they had contact with the road and should perhaps be picked up or be late for dinner.
Dinner which, for the meat-eaters, was that now well-known specialité de la maison –
–Du Camping-Car!
Er, sorry, OK, Harry, secialité du camping-car, Lapin au Van.
Increasingly uncertain weather did allow Tuesday morning’s breakfast to be taken outside, but that was the last of al fresco eating till the final morning. Most of the rest of the week was spent dodging showers during trips or weather-watching from inside the ‘french’ windows!
Nevertheless, the under 40s did manage to get in one or two more walks and a bike ride without getting TOO wet
(I’m sure there’s an over-40 in that photo!)
And these occasions gave the over-65s the chance to play several rubbers of quite evenly-matched bridge.
On Wednesday, and in spite of the weather, which did at least dry up for the afternoon / evening, the visitors chose to ride ‘Le Train Rouge’ from Axat to St. Paul. We did this on Carol’s birthday last year, so we have shown photos of it before, but this time we ‘stalked’ the train in the big black car, which gave us the chance to take pictures OF the train, not FROM it:
From St. Paul we drove up the Galamus Gorge, which we have done several times before, and shown you pictures of it. Actually, this time we drove UP it, down it, and back up again! Many, many photos were taken, though it’s difficult to capture new views, but here are a couple from that day:
That evening we were treated – many thanks – to dinner at the Café du Fleuve in Quillan (Mike & Vincent’s), where we were very well received, of course, and the Irish Coffees which the Thompson Brothers indulged in at the end were served with particular flair:
On Friday I had an appointment in Carcassonne, so – again, in spite of the weather – everyone decided to DO Carcassonne that day. April showers in May is the best way to describe it, and no sooner had I dropped them off at the gates of the Citadel, than the heavens opened and they scurried into the first café they found and had, in fact, quite a nice lunch. Then they chose to ride in the little tourist road train, rather than visit the Castle as Carol and I had done, and they say it ‘validates the blow’.
They also visited the Cathedral:
And after I picked them up again we drove to Castelnaudary to look at the big harbour on the Canal du Midi. The Brothers played safe and sampled the wine at the ‘Cave du Bassin’ but the Ladies walked around. Maybe they just failed to keep an eye on the weather, or perhaps it was the excitement of spotting a coypu in the water:
but they got caught in another terrific downpour, and they were off-road so ‘rescue’ was difficult!
After dinner that evening there was a musical (sort of) interlude:
[Philip made a video of one the songs from this session; a bilingual, semi-toothless version of ‘Down By The Riverside / Apud La Riverbord’. Those who can’t resist it, or who are just curious, might find it here: http://youtu.be/NnH7dY2wQCo ]
On Saturday there was a horse display in Quillan and some wanted to go and see it.
So I got to do my bit for the week! Only four people wanted to go down the squiggles, so I took them, instead of Big Black Bertie, or comment il s’appelle.
You did! Did you see any horses?
Erm, non, but M’dame and the others did.
Outdoor eating was still not an option, but we tried to put on a last evening special, including steak-frites with sauce aux champignons.
(And a cloth on the table!)
And so came Sunday morning; with the party having nothing to do but pack and have an early lunch, the weather finally turned sunny again, so as on day one, lunch was served on the terrace, as it should be at this time of year – or any time of year, really.
Two happy diners – and an uninvited guest??
Whose pet dragon is that?
Lunch over, we were on the road to get to Toulouse – no thunderstorms – with comfortable time to check in, and plenty of opportunity on the way to take pictures of those snow-capped Pyrenees:
With a last one after take-off:
Footnote: We (the remaining residents) had to get up early on Monday (27th) to return the big black car to Mirepoix at start of business. That done, we went into the town for café-croissants and to see the regular market. (There’s always a market on Monday, but last week’s was different for Pentecost) It was just as busy as a week ago, but with more foodstuff, crafts and clothes.
In the café, we found ourselves sitting next to some people from Exeter who were part of a choir (unaccompanied, close-harmony) who were giving a concert that evening in the Cathedral. They were just going out to sing a few numbers around the market as publicity, so we followed them:
They were so good that we went back to Mirepoix in the evening and heard the concert, which we enjoyed. Not only that, but we’d never set foot inside Mirepoix cathedral before, which is well worth a look. Sometimes it’s good to get up early!
STEPHEN GETS LEAVE OF ABSENCE AND TAKES HARRY AWAY ….
We got back from England to find the big pear tree in full bloom and the grass knee-high and gone to seed. The blossom didn’t last because the wind got up almost at once and blew it all off and the rain made us wait several days before tackling the grass. 
The challenge was too great and the little ‘tracteur’ gave up before the job was done ….
Looks like you’re giving up, too!
Hey, Harry, who asked you? I didn’t give up – I coaxed little Terrence back to life!
Terrence?
Got a better name for him? 
And that’s not “Get me a drink”; it’s TOAD doing a ‘POOP-POOP’!
A disappointment: the swimming pool – behind me in the picture – has so far been unuseable, and we don’t know what to do about it. It’s a long story and we don’t want to go on about it, but the water remains green in spite of several treatments and we can’t get the ph right. It also needs cleaning and maybe the liner is ‘past it’.
A delight: Sunday May 5th – for the first time, we ate all three meals out of doors.
An amusement: one (or more) of ‘our’ great tits has taken to perching on Harry’s exterior mirror and then gets very …… excited about his own reflections in the window and the mirror. So far we’ve been unable to photograph this as he always sees us approaching –
and you should see the mess he makes! You could photograph that.
Hmmm ….. maybe not. More bird life – swallows have arrived and wheel and swoop at varying heights over the field which surrounds the house. The crop in the field is now recognisable as barley and in spite of being waterlogged for some of the time it has survived the winter and looks promising.
Now, ‘after much debate internal’ – and some with Carol – I eventually and belatedly decided to enrol for the French Esperanto Congress, which has just taken place in Bordeaux. Go on, Harry …..
Ja – Mittwoch den achten –
English!
Oops! Wednesday 8th, about midday HE and I left HER and Sally to look after each other and Sunejo and set off for this combination of new experiences. (Just the two of us and a French Congress) First event was that HE realised that although HE had taken quite a bit of food, which HE didn’t need, HE’d forgotten the chicken leg for his lunch, which he did need. We had to stop at Mirepoix and buy a sandwich.
We made good progress then for the rest of the 350 kms and easily found the ‘kongresejo’, which was very close to the motorway in Antigues-Près-Bordeaux. As we approached the main building a lady on the steps gestured to us to go left and all the way round the building. HE’d been told in advance that not only was there parking available but that we could stay there during the Congress (but without electricity), so the gesture seemed to make sense, and anyway we could see at least one other motorhome already parked up (there were others). The way round the building was narrow, but OK, but then we saw the final approach to the parking area was down a steep tarmac ramp and there was probably no way I could do it without grounding at the back as the front levelled off. Backing off didn’t seem to be an option, though, so we carefully went down the ramp; a nasty scraping noise began as the front wheels got to level ground and continued for several seconds! Once we’d parked HE had a look at the back, but couldn’t see any obvious damage; there was a fresh white stripe on the tarmac, though, about 65cms long. Any thought of going to look for a camp site was abandoned; there we were and there we were stopping. How we would get off again was another matter …
That evening was the Congress’s formal dinner. I was lucky in where I chose to sit; French ‘Esperantists’ have a reputation for speaking French among themselves (that’s called ‘krokodili’) but I found a table where all five of my fellow diners were keen to use Esperanto and pleased to have a ‘foreigner’ to provide a reason to do so. (Though my Congress badge said ‘Francio’ – but I soon put that right!)
Two companions of the round table – a very nice couple, and quite a nice seafoody starter, too.
I am, of course, pouring wine for one of the nice people – that’s not MY glass, you understand ……
Nothing much of really general interest to report from Thursday, except that it rained most of the day, and maybe that’s not interesting, either.
But fortunately Friday was fine. Fortunately because I had booked an excursion to see Bordeaux by panoramic bus. I didn’t realise that meant open-sided! I’d have worn an extra garment if I’d known. But it was a good trip, with a well-delivered commentary in clear Esperanto from a man with good microphone technique.
Here are a few pictures:
An impressive square with statue / fountain.
One of Bordeaux’ surviving gates from when it was a walled city.
Fascinating lamps on the Stone Bridge.
During the dinner on Wednesday evening one of the organisers had come round asking for contributions to the final concert on Friday evening. I said ‘I’ll sing if you want – and play the guitar’. She said ‘You’ve got a guitar?’ – ‘Yes’ – ‘Really?’ -‘Yes, really’ – ‘Here at the Congress?’ – ‘Yes’ – ‘A real guitar?’ – ‘A real guitar’. And I added ‘Don’t worry; I have some experience’. She still didn’t actually believe in this guitar, but took a risk and said I could do three songs.
Wow! I don’t think anyone there (about 250 people) had ever seen or heard me before, and they loved it! The Esperanto versions of ‘If I Had a Hammer’, The Whistling Gipsy’ and ‘Down By The Riverside’ were as well received as ever by an audience who just didn’t know what to expect! There’s no photo (that I’ve seen) of that event, so here’s one taken on a previous occasion:
Saturday morning was COLD in Harry –
That was your fault for going to bed with the skylight open! So anyway, HE tried to use the diesel heater, but could get it to run; he tried to get some hot water to wash and shave with, but that wouldn’t work; he tried to fill the kettle from the tap, THAT didn’t work! Finally he had a look at the control panel, and worked out that the leisure battery was flat. Sorry, M’sieur, (as our little friend calls you), but THREE NIGHTS using the water, the fridge, the heaters and the lights with no movement during the day and no hook-up is TOO MUCH.
OK – I get it. Having brought some hard boiled eggs, as well as raw ones, from home, I thought I’d have a Dutch or German style breakfast, with egg and cheese. So I made coffee (with mineral water from a bottle) and got one of the eggs out of the fridge. Only after tapping it on my plate did I realise it was one of the UNCOOKED ones! Still, I hadn’t made a total mess of it, and I was able to change the plan and scramble it.
So then we had to get off that parking area. HE went up to the reception of the centre and came back with a very nice young lady who said ‘drive round on the grass’. It looked a bit so-so, but she said it was firm enough and the groundsman wouldn’t mind …. We drove off the tarmac onto the grass, well, more buttercups and daisies, really, then tried to turn up the hill towards the driveway above the ramp. Skid, skid skid. ‘Reverse back to the level’ said the nice lady and try between these two trees’. We reversed. We tried between those two trees. Skid, skid, skid. ‘Back off again’ said the nice lady, ‘and stay on the level to the corner, then come up to that concrete stand where the bench is then back to the driveway.’ We did that! And it worked; a bit of manoeuvering to get between two posts onto the tarmac and then to face the right way and we were FREE! We said goodbye to the nice lady and went to buy some milk ……
We stopped at Pamiers for fuel and Mirepoix for a bit of shopping and just after 5pm, we pulled into Sunejo, where Carol was beautifying the terrace with tubs and hanging baskets and Sally was sleeping under her shelter.
Mais non! I was not sleeping, just standing by till I was needed again.
That’s what I do most of the time.
Alors, voilà. I’m very wide awake, tu sais ….
SALLY GOES SOLO (6): Home again!
We think we packed it all up –
Including the extras! Their bottles and stuff.
Yes, but we could have got more in. Actually, we did after the Channel Crossing. And although Carol had gone to work – or to swim on the way to work – she had set out what we needed for breakfast (thanks again!).
So THEY said ‘au revoir’ to Christine and finally put themselves inside as well as everything else and we set off for Dover at about 10.30. After we had stopped at Maidstone for a quick coffee (for THEM) there was a short section of queueing traffic on the motorway, but fortunately it was only short and we got to Dover Harbour in good time, that is 45 minutes before sailing, not the ‘required’ hour. But it did not matter.
No, indeed. We’ve never seen such a sparsely occupied car ferry! We had lunch with an excellent view of leaving the harbour and the White Cliffs:
Bye-bye, England!
We did a puzzle from the paper – the ‘i‘, the last we’ll see for now; we can get various English papers of assorted sizes, weights, and quality, but the Fro** haven’t discovered the i yet – and some (essential?) shopping, and with watches moved on one hour we seemed to be docking at 15.45.
By 4pm we were off the ship and, with plenty of fuel already on board, heading out of Calais for the motorway. First stop was Baie de Somme, their favourite service area in the North:
Welcome to the land of the Frog!
Brew-break at Baie de Somme.
Nice cuppa tea! (Well spotted – that’s coffee on the table, but Carol had tea.) And where in England could you see fish like this at a motorway service area?
… except that they were taken at a motorway service area!
Nothing special about these photos …..
Now, maybe this isn’t the right place for a bleat or a rant – I have another blogsite for that – but I’m going to mention something that I was really glad to get away from on leaving England: litter. Yes, there is litter in France, of course there is, the human race has elements in it that are just stupid, and perhaps litter is one of the less serious manifestations of that, but once clear of Calais (now why should that be?) we saw much less of it. English roadsides, hedgerows and verges are simply a disgrace, with the main culprits seeming to be consumers of takeaway food, drinkers of fizzy drinks, including cola and beer, and smokers. If you haven’t noticed it, just look around; look around and be ashamed ….
Calm down, M’sieur! But you are right, of course. We moved on, avoiding Paris and heading for Rouen, where we managed – using only experience and signposts, not TomTom – to find the quickest and easiest way through. Stopping alongside the River Seine to change drivers – M’dame had negotiated Rouen –
The Seine at Rouen.
we were able to admire the White Cliffs of Rouen:
A Church in the rock:
and a Chateau on the hillside:
Which we must have driven past before, but usually in hurry and / or in the dark, and in the other direction, so not noticed them!
It was getting late; we moved on, but only as far as Evreux, where after enquiring first at a Kyriad Hotel, which was full, we were directed (sort of – it was hard to find!) to a Campanile Hotel, which had a room.
Campanile did better this time that in Orléans on the way north, but not so well that we shall make a point of looking for them in future; we won’t avoid them, but we’ll try others. One criticism is that breakfast does seem rather expensive at €9.50 each in addition to the room. (It’s buffet style, but only cold fare, French / German / Dutch style, and then not even a hard boiled egg) so this time we eschewed breakfast intending to find a less expensive café-croissant en route.
THAT turned out to be a bit unfortunate… HE drove blithely past the only service area on the non-motorway part of the route, so ‘breakfast’ got later and later; at Dreux THEY found a supermarket where they bought the pastries, but it was some time after that before there was a suitable place to stop to make coffee and enjoy them. Breakfast was at about 11.30.
Still, the weather was fine and warm and we drove on through the centre of France in the full flush of springtime; green verges dotted with cowslips, swathes of white blossom, one section of central reservation ablaze with forsythia (no photo!), fields of buttercups, and picnic sites carpeted with daisies:
Like breakfast, lunch was quite late, too, but even with the fuel stop at Limoges we remained on target for arrival at Sunejo between 8.30 and 9pm. There was one more break at Aire Jardin des Causses du Lot, but as daylight faded we came round the bend from Camplimoux and spotted Harry waiting beside the house.
So, as we used to say when the diary was spoken into a little hand-held recorder “after a round trip of 2,769 miles, A6 SKT has come home”.
But what a sight! The big pear tree is in bloom, OK, but the grass is knee-high and gone to seed; it’s going to take some time to sort that out! Still, “Well done, Little Car!”
Merci! C’était un plaisir; a few too many bottles in the boot, both coming and going, but un plaisir, quand même.
Now you can tell Harry all about it.
That’ll be nice …
Stephen's space 