The eastern coast of Sardinia is studded with isolated beaches, many reached only by boat. The forecast was for sun, so the day was set fair. Sun duely arrived, but so did a howling gale that confined all boats to harbour.
For **** sake.
To cheer up everyone sitting in the front section of the van, as we set off for yet more caves, we had a family sing song. To the tune of 'She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes', we reduced our sensitive firstborn to tears.
We'll be cutting Maddie's hair off when we come.
We'll be shredding Maddie's dresses when we come.
We'll be chopping Perky's* head off when we come.
*her favourite toy.
Note to social services - none of the above is true. And even if it were, Maddie stopped crying to laugh at all the other verses about Chloe and additional van occupants.
Maddie's poetic soul manifested itself this morning in the unlikely surrounds of the port carpark. Caught short once again, she peered between her legs as she squatted and captured the moment beautifully.
"My wee wee is like sunshine falling to the ground."
Thursday, 20 May 2010
Saturday 15 May, Baunei, eastern Sardinia
Today, the sun shone on Sardinia. And on my soul. We visited a beautiful plateau with wild donkeys, isolated churches, atmospheric pools and not a sinner disturbed our peaceful solitude until we chanced upon a mountain tavern showing the FA Cup final.
Even slicing my finger in the evening earned a respite from the washing up.
Even slicing my finger in the evening earned a respite from the washing up.
Friday 14 May Tortoli, eastern Sardinia
Rain, rain. More rain. Some caves, very nice. More rain. Torrential rain.
I will end today's update with Kurtz's dying words from The Heart of Darkness. This novel can be read as a metaphor for this trip, with its subject a man who ventures into the dark interior of a continent, ending up on the edge of sanity.
The horror, the horror.
I will end today's update with Kurtz's dying words from The Heart of Darkness. This novel can be read as a metaphor for this trip, with its subject a man who ventures into the dark interior of a continent, ending up on the edge of sanity.
The horror, the horror.
Thursday 13 May Porto Vecchio to Tortoli, eastern Sardinia
We arrived at 1155 hours for the 1200 hours trans-national ferry to Sardinia. Fortunately, the bureaucracy was Italian rather than French and we had time to buy a ticket and be ushered on before the ferry left dead on time.
101 uses for a campervan #6 Magnet for disturbed children
You know the type. Previously we had been pestered by a 5 year old with a mullet, a leather jacket, drainpipe jeans and an AC\DC t-shirt. After an hour playing with our pair, his skull and crossbones emblazoned skateboard was acting as a transportation medium for 3 pink dolls and a purple pony. Today, it is the 5 year old unsmiling progeny of a nearby camper. This camper treats the adjoining beach as his own private naturist retreat despite the clothed status of all other users. His son stands beside our van staring at us with his had down the front of his shorts. They are not like other people.
101 uses for a campervan #6 Magnet for disturbed children
You know the type. Previously we had been pestered by a 5 year old with a mullet, a leather jacket, drainpipe jeans and an AC\DC t-shirt. After an hour playing with our pair, his skull and crossbones emblazoned skateboard was acting as a transportation medium for 3 pink dolls and a purple pony. Today, it is the 5 year old unsmiling progeny of a nearby camper. This camper treats the adjoining beach as his own private naturist retreat despite the clothed status of all other users. His son stands beside our van staring at us with his had down the front of his shorts. They are not like other people.
Wednesday 12 May. East of Porto Vecchio, Corsica
Another ride and an afternoon spent cooling off by waterfalls.
Now every word of Chloe's ends in 'y'. Every *&%**$ word. Uppy. Downy. Vanny. Forky. Knifey. When she hurts herself she shouts Ouchy. And Maddie is doing it too.
Out of such small irritations in such confined spaces have some dark and evil deeds been provoked.
Now every word of Chloe's ends in 'y'. Every *&%**$ word. Uppy. Downy. Vanny. Forky. Knifey. When she hurts herself she shouts Ouchy. And Maddie is doing it too.
Out of such small irritations in such confined spaces have some dark and evil deeds been provoked.
Tuesday 11 May, Bonifacio to east of Port Vecchio, Corsica
Beautiful boat ride around the southern coast of Corsica. Ask Maddie what she remembers of the day, however, and her answer would be 'the pink curtains on the coach in the car park and the giant jar of Nutella in the shop we didn't go into'.
Startling proof emerged today that, contrary to recent evidence, Maddie does listen to us.But only when we are not talking to her. I had politely enquired if today's driver was going to break with protocol and routinely check for oncoming traffic from the left upon entering a roundabout. Maddie intervened. 'Yes Mummy, it's terrible. Daddy can't even sleep when you're driving, can he?'
Startling proof emerged today that, contrary to recent evidence, Maddie does listen to us.But only when we are not talking to her. I had politely enquired if today's driver was going to break with protocol and routinely check for oncoming traffic from the left upon entering a roundabout. Maddie intervened. 'Yes Mummy, it's terrible. Daddy can't even sleep when you're driving, can he?'
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
Monday 10 May, Ajaccio to Bonifacio via Filitosa
Filitosa is a Stone Age marvel set in breathtaking Corsican countryside. The visitor walks through meadows containing a riot of spring flowers, taking in this engineering and artistic wonder from a long past age. Mysterious statues and stone dwellings challenge the archaeologist's imagination, all framed by forest clad mountains. Crickets chirp, birds sing, but the French think something is missing. Piped music. What better way to evoke the Neolithic than ensure that the guest is always within earshot of a din of panpipes and lutes.
What a useless shower of aural vandals.
Bonifacio. Another beautiful Corsican town, another white tourist road train. Careful observers would have noticed the air of ironic detachment I have cultivated for just such kitsch activities.
The first newspapers of the trip were purchased today. Unfortunately, it coincided with a campsite that had not embraced such modernities as the western toilet and 15 minutes of guaranteed peace to read them was deducted from my day.
What a useless shower of aural vandals.
Bonifacio. Another beautiful Corsican town, another white tourist road train. Careful observers would have noticed the air of ironic detachment I have cultivated for just such kitsch activities.
The first newspapers of the trip were purchased today. Unfortunately, it coincided with a campsite that had not embraced such modernities as the western toilet and 15 minutes of guaranteed peace to read them was deducted from my day.
Sunday 9 May, south of Ajaccio, Corsica
Another day which the Corsican barometer tappers had got gloriously wrong. Another day's biking, cavorting in the hills, cooling feet in the Med at the end.
Saturday 8 May, south of Ajaccio, Corsica.
Once upon a time lived a man in a campervan. He lived there with his two beautiful daughters and his wicked* wife.
The man was happy, but something was missing. His fairy godmother visited him in a dream and reassured him. "Don't worry," she cooed, "tomorrow the sun will shine and you will discover true happiness"
The next day the man, seeking mountainbike trails, visited a shop. The shopkeeper touched his arm in a conspiratorial fashion and handed over a bound tome of Corsican routes, and one started just a stone's throw away. Tears of happiness clouded the man's eyes but when he blinked the shop had gone. And so had the 20 Euros in his pocket. He had been robbed, but robbed in a way that felt like a privilege.
The trail wound upwards from the sea. The man stopped for a time and took in the view. The sea was as blue as Cinderella's eyes. The beaches were as golden as her hair. The pine clad hills were as green as the envy of her step sisters when the glass slipper nestled onto her foot.
The man continued on. Emerald green lizards darted across his path. The scent of pine filled his nostrils. Colourful butterflies fanned his perspiring brow. Things couldn't get any better, could they? He rounded a corner. A comely French maiden had taken advantage of the perceived isolation and had discarded her blouse in the heat of the day.
At the top of the mountain the man paused. A thought struck him. It was transitory, but a feeling he hadn't had before had been there for a fleeting second.
He...he...he...LOVED CAMPERVANNING.
*Wicked in the sense of the modern street vernacular 'it was wicked man.' Obviously. What did you think I meant?
The man was happy, but something was missing. His fairy godmother visited him in a dream and reassured him. "Don't worry," she cooed, "tomorrow the sun will shine and you will discover true happiness"
The next day the man, seeking mountainbike trails, visited a shop. The shopkeeper touched his arm in a conspiratorial fashion and handed over a bound tome of Corsican routes, and one started just a stone's throw away. Tears of happiness clouded the man's eyes but when he blinked the shop had gone. And so had the 20 Euros in his pocket. He had been robbed, but robbed in a way that felt like a privilege.
The trail wound upwards from the sea. The man stopped for a time and took in the view. The sea was as blue as Cinderella's eyes. The beaches were as golden as her hair. The pine clad hills were as green as the envy of her step sisters when the glass slipper nestled onto her foot.
The man continued on. Emerald green lizards darted across his path. The scent of pine filled his nostrils. Colourful butterflies fanned his perspiring brow. Things couldn't get any better, could they? He rounded a corner. A comely French maiden had taken advantage of the perceived isolation and had discarded her blouse in the heat of the day.
At the top of the mountain the man paused. A thought struck him. It was transitory, but a feeling he hadn't had before had been there for a fleeting second.
He...he...he...LOVED CAMPERVANNING.
*Wicked in the sense of the modern street vernacular 'it was wicked man.' Obviously. What did you think I meant?
Monday, 17 May 2010
Friday 7 May Corte to south of Ajaccio, west Corsica
We were reduced to seeking entertainment in a charitable Tortoise Refuge this morning during the admittedly stunning drive to Ajaccio. Having spent some time with them, I started to feel a kinship. They too are doomed forever to carry their home with them where'er they roam.
A rare lapse into violence from Maddie this morning prompted me to ask her if she thought Cinderella had ever hit anyone. She thought not. I may get Maddie an armband with the initials WWCD on it. What Would Cinderella Do? A philosophy for life we would all do well to pay heed to.
A rare lapse into violence from Maddie this morning prompted me to ask her if she thought Cinderella had ever hit anyone. She thought not. I may get Maddie an armband with the initials WWCD on it. What Would Cinderella Do? A philosophy for life we would all do well to pay heed to.
Thursday 6 May, Corte
A day of low level irritations of the sort non-campers don't experience. Let me take you through a not atypical 15 minute slot of this morning.
1 Awake to discover the temperature is 8 degrees and we are once again in the middle of a cloud. This is particularly annoying because...
2 The showers are solar powered.
3 Finish lukewarm shower, hop around putting trousers on in phonebox sized puddle of brown water. Bottom half of both trouser legs wet.
4 Trudge back through mud to van. Throw clothes on floor, look for tea.
5 Discover tea underneath clothes, with yesterday's underpants half submerged in the still steaming beverage.
6 Sit down on chair to drink what is left of the slightly stale tasting infusion.
7 Back falls off chair.
Such annoyances were put into some kind of perspective on our afternoon excursion to the Cascade d'Anglais, a renowned beauty spot. By the time we arrived, this sun drenched corner of the Med, this jewel in France's crown registered an air temperature of 2.5 degrees above the freezing point of water. In a cloud.
Come to Corsica in May, the guidebooks all said.
But all was well as the VW T4 California Freestyle Westfalia conversion comes with heated front seats as standard.
Learning point of the day: A beaker of water can be transferred from the receptacle to all six internal surfaces of a van uniformly in just under 3 seconds. Simply pour the liquid onto a dog.
The forecast for the next four days is rain with a brief interlude on Sunday for a period of heavy rain.
Haiku to a campervan,
The joy a veneer
This crucible of despair
May it rust in peace.
101 uses for a campervan #5 Internal cloud viewing vehicle.
Simply programme into the sat-nav the part of the world from which you would like to view the bowels of the cloud, and, in plenty of time for your arrival, a moisture laden cloak will descend.
They were beautiful, those campervans in the mist...
The top 3 Most Pointless Items Carried Hundreds of Miles Across a Continent And Associated Islands
In reverse order:
3 A train set. Used once. Limited Cinderella imaginative play potential. Back in box.
2 Boggle. Whatever possessed us to think that a game requiring 16 small cubes, an egg timer, 2 pens, mental freshness and peace and quiet could ever be located and enjoyed in a campervan with 2 small children?
1 A ukulele. Yes, really. Those warm Meditteranean evenings. The children sleeping. A glass of Chianti on the table. The van as my muse. It just hasn't worked out like that yet.
1 Awake to discover the temperature is 8 degrees and we are once again in the middle of a cloud. This is particularly annoying because...
2 The showers are solar powered.
3 Finish lukewarm shower, hop around putting trousers on in phonebox sized puddle of brown water. Bottom half of both trouser legs wet.
4 Trudge back through mud to van. Throw clothes on floor, look for tea.
5 Discover tea underneath clothes, with yesterday's underpants half submerged in the still steaming beverage.
6 Sit down on chair to drink what is left of the slightly stale tasting infusion.
7 Back falls off chair.
Such annoyances were put into some kind of perspective on our afternoon excursion to the Cascade d'Anglais, a renowned beauty spot. By the time we arrived, this sun drenched corner of the Med, this jewel in France's crown registered an air temperature of 2.5 degrees above the freezing point of water. In a cloud.
Come to Corsica in May, the guidebooks all said.
But all was well as the VW T4 California Freestyle Westfalia conversion comes with heated front seats as standard.
Learning point of the day: A beaker of water can be transferred from the receptacle to all six internal surfaces of a van uniformly in just under 3 seconds. Simply pour the liquid onto a dog.
The forecast for the next four days is rain with a brief interlude on Sunday for a period of heavy rain.
Haiku to a campervan,
The joy a veneer
This crucible of despair
May it rust in peace.
101 uses for a campervan #5 Internal cloud viewing vehicle.
Simply programme into the sat-nav the part of the world from which you would like to view the bowels of the cloud, and, in plenty of time for your arrival, a moisture laden cloak will descend.
They were beautiful, those campervans in the mist...
The top 3 Most Pointless Items Carried Hundreds of Miles Across a Continent And Associated Islands
In reverse order:
3 A train set. Used once. Limited Cinderella imaginative play potential. Back in box.
2 Boggle. Whatever possessed us to think that a game requiring 16 small cubes, an egg timer, 2 pens, mental freshness and peace and quiet could ever be located and enjoyed in a campervan with 2 small children?
1 A ukulele. Yes, really. Those warm Meditteranean evenings. The children sleeping. A glass of Chianti on the table. The van as my muse. It just hasn't worked out like that yet.
Wednesday 5 May, Corte
We had a prearranged meet with some friends on Corsica and to those of you who read the first post on this blog the following statement may come as a surprise.
I am enjoying the experience of camping with a dog.
Let me explain, for such statements are not rashly made, but after due consideration I believe a measure of credit is due to the cur. Chloe's terror of said beast has ensured that the threat of putting her in to spend the night with it is sufficient to numb her pre sleep excitement and act as an incentive at mealtimes to ensure the consumption of vegetables.
Things I learnt today:
1 It is impossible to retain gravitas whilst a passenger on a small white tourist train puffing up and down the streets of Corte.
2 At the tender age of just 3, Maddie realises her dreams will never come true. She stated this halfway through the day's formal Cinderella reading at 1600 hours. On questioning, she revealed her dream was 'to be 5 before I am 4'.
3 Corsicans have 'traditional' attitudes to women entailing dismissing them from bars to look after children while their husbands receive their second complimentary refreshment of the evening and discuss politics and sport.
4 Corsicans suppor France at rugby.
5 Corsicans support anyone but France at football.
6 Corsican nationalists are winning the guerrilla spraypaint campaign to rid the island of French roadsigns, though evidence of more concrete geopolitical progress remains elusive.
7 Corsica hangovers are commensurate with standard Corsican beer strength at 6% abv.
I am enjoying the experience of camping with a dog.
Let me explain, for such statements are not rashly made, but after due consideration I believe a measure of credit is due to the cur. Chloe's terror of said beast has ensured that the threat of putting her in to spend the night with it is sufficient to numb her pre sleep excitement and act as an incentive at mealtimes to ensure the consumption of vegetables.
Things I learnt today:
1 It is impossible to retain gravitas whilst a passenger on a small white tourist train puffing up and down the streets of Corte.
2 At the tender age of just 3, Maddie realises her dreams will never come true. She stated this halfway through the day's formal Cinderella reading at 1600 hours. On questioning, she revealed her dream was 'to be 5 before I am 4'.
3 Corsicans have 'traditional' attitudes to women entailing dismissing them from bars to look after children while their husbands receive their second complimentary refreshment of the evening and discuss politics and sport.
4 Corsicans suppor France at rugby.
5 Corsicans support anyone but France at football.
6 Corsican nationalists are winning the guerrilla spraypaint campaign to rid the island of French roadsigns, though evidence of more concrete geopolitical progress remains elusive.
7 Corsica hangovers are commensurate with standard Corsican beer strength at 6% abv.
Tuesday 4 May. Nice to Corte, Corsica
The skies of the Cote d'Azur weep for our departure and continue to mourn the whole way to Corte. The 6 hour ferry trip was shortened considerably by a play area with a crappy princess castle. In my sodden misery I have sought refuge in the arena of traditional Japanese poetry and tentatively offer the following glimpse of my soul in haiku form.
The rain keeps falling
The open road of freedom
Has become a sewer*.
*Note in Ulster vernacular 'sewer' has one syllable thus completing the five syllabic line required by the haiku. For speakers of other dialects, haiku integrity can be maintained by using the alternative last line 'Is now a sewer.'
101 Uses for a Campervan #4 Wetlands area for wildlife
Step 1: Fail to remove Camargue snails from bike trailer prior to placing in van despite finding, and counting, 34 of the one-footed slime generating organisms on Chloe's small bike during same packing activity.
Step 2: Leave the main van door open during a downpour. The seats will become an important marshland habitat drawing the snails towards the fore of the vehicle.
The rain keeps falling
The open road of freedom
Has become a sewer*.
*Note in Ulster vernacular 'sewer' has one syllable thus completing the five syllabic line required by the haiku. For speakers of other dialects, haiku integrity can be maintained by using the alternative last line 'Is now a sewer.'
101 Uses for a Campervan #4 Wetlands area for wildlife
Step 1: Fail to remove Camargue snails from bike trailer prior to placing in van despite finding, and counting, 34 of the one-footed slime generating organisms on Chloe's small bike during same packing activity.
Step 2: Leave the main van door open during a downpour. The seats will become an important marshland habitat drawing the snails towards the fore of the vehicle.
Saturday 1 May to Monday 3 May. Valbonne, near Nice
The campervan is ensconced once again in its natural habitat, a driveway. While I am ensconced once again in mine, a house. Thank you Kat and Christoph! Three days of white sheets, gastronomic and bacchanalian delights. Three days of mediaeval hilltop villages with shops declaring the proprieter within to be a pretentious tosser, sorry, I mean 'Soap Maker and Philosopher.' Three days of stimulating conversation and the distractions of the Cote d'Azur. Then back to that *&**%$* caravan with an engine.
Friday 30 April, Camargue Southern France
Incurring the wrath of local twitchers we took our 2 and 3 year olds round some of the bird hides of the Camargue. I can confirm that the slowest moving birds of the salt marshes are herons and flamingoes. As these were the only avian lifeforms we observed.
Beauty is only skin deep and it needed my eldest to remind me of this today. Or, to give her her full, self appointed title: "Princess Cinderella Mermaid Maddie". Having made a rather disparaging remark about the visual attractiveness of a mottled grey flamingo chick, Maddie gently put me in my place. 'Yes. But Daddy. The chick's mummy and daddy will love it anyway, won't they?'
It is all very well taking the children on a 3 month excursion to see a bit of the world, but for a 3 year old Cinderella obsessionist, the highlight of the Camargue wasn't the wild flamingoes, the lighthouses or even the crepes. It was the crappy plastic princess castle in teh campsite playground.
The girls' life education continues apace and Chloe's first, non-truncated 4 syllable word is...Cinderella.
Beauty is only skin deep and it needed my eldest to remind me of this today. Or, to give her her full, self appointed title: "Princess Cinderella Mermaid Maddie". Having made a rather disparaging remark about the visual attractiveness of a mottled grey flamingo chick, Maddie gently put me in my place. 'Yes. But Daddy. The chick's mummy and daddy will love it anyway, won't they?'
It is all very well taking the children on a 3 month excursion to see a bit of the world, but for a 3 year old Cinderella obsessionist, the highlight of the Camargue wasn't the wild flamingoes, the lighthouses or even the crepes. It was the crappy plastic princess castle in teh campsite playground.
The girls' life education continues apace and Chloe's first, non-truncated 4 syllable word is...Cinderella.
Monday, 3 May 2010
Thursday 29 April.
Costa Brava to the Camargue in southern France.
France. Where the women either speak French, or speak English in a French accent. Marvellous.
One of joys of spending time with the children is helping them to learn, grow and blossom. Today, they would have observed as their parents demonstrated advanced conflict resolution skills by maturely reasoning their way through some navigational differences of opinion caused by 'too many purple squiggles' on the sat nav. One party ironically threw toll road tickets and the other humourously refused to have any further input to proceedings given the underappreciated nature of contributions heretowith.
Later, the children would have added to their growing knowledge of emphatic adjectives as Daddy changed two bicycle tyres, cheerfully breaking two tyre levers, taking a lump out of his finger and incurring a pinch puncture at the last.
France. Where the women either speak French, or speak English in a French accent. Marvellous.
One of joys of spending time with the children is helping them to learn, grow and blossom. Today, they would have observed as their parents demonstrated advanced conflict resolution skills by maturely reasoning their way through some navigational differences of opinion caused by 'too many purple squiggles' on the sat nav. One party ironically threw toll road tickets and the other humourously refused to have any further input to proceedings given the underappreciated nature of contributions heretowith.
Later, the children would have added to their growing knowledge of emphatic adjectives as Daddy changed two bicycle tyres, cheerfully breaking two tyre levers, taking a lump out of his finger and incurring a pinch puncture at the last.
Tuesday 27 April to Wednesday 28 April, Huesca to Llafranca, Costa Brava
Tuesday
Today Maddie had the unfortunate experience of being colocated at the point where a bird's excretion would have hit the ground and was deCinderellaified for a period of time until her hair was cleansed.
Wednesday
Sun, Beach, Bike. Children punished for sleep refusal the previous evening by denial of ice cream, delay to beach arrival and removal of juice consumption privileges. In bed and asleep by 7.30 pm, 3 hours earlier than previously.
Today Maddie had the unfortunate experience of being colocated at the point where a bird's excretion would have hit the ground and was deCinderellaified for a period of time until her hair was cleansed.
Wednesday
Sun, Beach, Bike. Children punished for sleep refusal the previous evening by denial of ice cream, delay to beach arrival and removal of juice consumption privileges. In bed and asleep by 7.30 pm, 3 hours earlier than previously.
Monday 26 April Haro to Huesca
This evening Chloe awakens at 0100 hours shouting 'HAM HAM HAM' and at 0300 hours shouting 'MORE KETCHUP MORE KETCHUP'. I offer no conclusions to draw from this, I present only the facts.
Friday 23 to Sunday 25 April Bilbao
To Bilbao, and the nation of Dali inspires some surreal jokes from our 3 year old budding comic. 'What do you call a tree eating an owl? A lamppost!'. I must check if psychiatric assessments are covered by the pan-European E-111 card.
Chloe was eventually vibrated to her afternoon sleep after the fifteenth traipse up and down an ideally textured Bilbao street. On the fourteenth circuit, my brain translated 'tienda para adultos' into English. The fifteenth passing was for information gathering purposes only.
From Bilbao to Zalla, paella and with Bea and family, a colleague I hadn't seen in ten years but whose hospitality will live long in the memory. From Zalla to Haro, and Rioja country.
101 alternative uses for a campervan # 3
Luxury living arrangements for an ant colony. Simply feed your children crusty bread for 2 days and omit to brush the crumbs out and hey presto, observe the social sophistication of ants at close quarters as they move from basement to mid quarters to penthouse in around 3 hours.
Things that wouldn't happen at home #1 Carrying one's 3 year old under one's arm at 0500 hours for 60 yards as she needs 'a poo and a wee'. Only one of which materialises and could have been done rather closer to the van without causing an entomological frenzy.
Things that wouldn't happen at home #2 Whilst seeking refuge in the communal Water Closet with some reading material, an Eco-fascist turns off the lights.
Chloe was eventually vibrated to her afternoon sleep after the fifteenth traipse up and down an ideally textured Bilbao street. On the fourteenth circuit, my brain translated 'tienda para adultos' into English. The fifteenth passing was for information gathering purposes only.
From Bilbao to Zalla, paella and with Bea and family, a colleague I hadn't seen in ten years but whose hospitality will live long in the memory. From Zalla to Haro, and Rioja country.
101 alternative uses for a campervan # 3
Luxury living arrangements for an ant colony. Simply feed your children crusty bread for 2 days and omit to brush the crumbs out and hey presto, observe the social sophistication of ants at close quarters as they move from basement to mid quarters to penthouse in around 3 hours.
Things that wouldn't happen at home #1 Carrying one's 3 year old under one's arm at 0500 hours for 60 yards as she needs 'a poo and a wee'. Only one of which materialises and could have been done rather closer to the van without causing an entomological frenzy.
Things that wouldn't happen at home #2 Whilst seeking refuge in the communal Water Closet with some reading material, an Eco-fascist turns off the lights.
Thursday 22 April San Sebastian coutryside
The lush, verdant Basque countryside impresses and slightly surprises the casual visitor who had been expecting hues of a drier nature. The Atlantic sea mists and soft rain might feature in the misty eyed poetry of basque legend but when it chucks it down with rain on the day booked two months in advance for a guided mountainbike tour of the region, one is entitled to a certain tetchiness.
101 uses for a campervan #2
Send lemmings to their clifftop plunge in style by packing 27 family groups in the Teutonically practical interior before releasing the handbrake at the top of Beachy Head.
101 uses for a campervan #2
Send lemmings to their clifftop plunge in style by packing 27 family groups in the Teutonically practical interior before releasing the handbrake at the top of Beachy Head.
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