It is of course a gross generalisation, but people who stay at holiday campsites talk endlessly about their bloody caravans, stabilisers, nose weights, gas bottles, sat-navs, curtains, carpet and kitchens and other domestic detail. Of course I do have these conversations, but they are about me and my gear and so are interesting [You may want to think about this - Ed.]
Some sit outside their 'rigs' meeting their neighbours and being almost offensively chummy while they cheerfully barbecue luxury foodstuffs into carbon. Others prefer staying inside watching 'Belgium’s Got Talent' or whatever on staellite TV.
And they appear to enjoy writing to The Caravan Club Magazine with appllingly written tales of life on the road: "Hubby reversed the old caravan out of the garden at No 23 and primed the toilet with CrapGon toilet fluid as I ironed the sandwhiches in preparation for our great adventure..." They also seem to like complaining about other caravan and camper users who do not share their values.
When travelling in the UK I tend to keep myself to myself, stay in lay-bys, up quiet lanes and in dark corners on industrial estate. This does not quite meet the holiday requirements of herself, who prefers somewhere from which one is less likley to be evicted in the wee small hours.
Having left home later than intended heading for Spain, we thought a good place to stop for the first night might be Ondres on the French Atlantic coast. It was reputed to have space on the beach which, while not a campsite per-se, was camping-car friendly. It turned out to be a section of the car park reserved for camping cars. Despite being the end of the season it was around half-full.
Having arrived at dusk we had two options, stay and make the best of it or go and find somwhere else in the gloom. Sancerre cooed soothingly from the fridge and a single malt
hummed moreishly from a cupboard. We stayed.
Some sit outside their 'rigs' meeting their neighbours and being almost offensively chummy while they cheerfully barbecue luxury foodstuffs into carbon. Others prefer staying inside watching 'Belgium’s Got Talent' or whatever on staellite TV.
And they appear to enjoy writing to The Caravan Club Magazine with appllingly written tales of life on the road: "Hubby reversed the old caravan out of the garden at No 23 and primed the toilet with CrapGon toilet fluid as I ironed the sandwhiches in preparation for our great adventure..." They also seem to like complaining about other caravan and camper users who do not share their values.
When travelling in the UK I tend to keep myself to myself, stay in lay-bys, up quiet lanes and in dark corners on industrial estate. This does not quite meet the holiday requirements of herself, who prefers somewhere from which one is less likley to be evicted in the wee small hours.
Having left home later than intended heading for Spain, we thought a good place to stop for the first night might be Ondres on the French Atlantic coast. It was reputed to have space on the beach which, while not a campsite per-se, was camping-car friendly. It turned out to be a section of the car park reserved for camping cars. Despite being the end of the season it was around half-full.
There
was a fee of €7 for the night but the coin-operated barrier was
knackered presumably knackered after a busy season going up and down.
A
notice said that the barrier was broken and that the Gendarmes would
come and collect cash. This turned out to be only one third true - it was, they didn’t and they didn’t.
We sat outside in the moist warmth, sipped Sancerre and said bon jour to all and sundry. They said bon jour back to us and walked their dogs, or stayed in and watched TV. For all I know angry letters were written to Le Journal de Camping Car
In the morning we emptied the waste and refilled the fresh at the fluid managemnt point. Well, you have to take advantage of these facilities when you can before heading off on an adventure...
As I reversed out of bay number 23, complete with gleaming toilet, I suspected that I would be seeing a couple more campsites before the week was up.
Verdict: a fine Sancerre and a very acceptable single malt and €7 to spend on something else. Now, where's the address for the Caravan Monthly letters page...
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