SUNDAY 18-5-25

Well, there was a bit of a clear out this morning. Fritz in the campervan two doors down who I had a nice chat yesterday evening left first thing followed late morning by the ACSI lady and her nasty dog.

Yesterday afternoon we had a fairly large 'A' Class Cathargo motorhome turn up. It appeared after its owners, who I think are new to this game, spent ages wandering around the site inspecting all the empty  pitches whilst Reception was close. Once open, they appeared with their vehicle and continued to pontificate about where to park. In the end they settled for one just behind us and to the right. This morning they were gone. Was it really worth all that effort for just one night?

If I were to give our motorhome a nickname it would have to be 'Turd' because other campers, like flies, are attracted to us. It doesn't matter where we pitch, in no time we have neighbours all around us. We have just had the Belgian Bumboys arrive with their little dog who followed the same routine pontificating over which pitch to have, settling on the one just behind us to the left. Honestly, the campsite is nearly empty yet we now have three campers close to us.

It was a lovely fresh sunny morning when we woke up and having scrubbed up we did some washing and housework. This will save us having to worry for a little while when we arrive in Villenueve Loubet tomorrow afternoon.

After soaking up some sunshine and enjoying lunch we decided to go down to the pool in the hope that some of the kids had gone home. They hadn't but it was manageable. I have to say the pool here, which has always been of a high standard, and a safe 1.3mtrs deep throughout is a great place for kids because there is a separate toddlers pool with a slide a and water guns plus on the other side were two slides. One in to its own pool and the other landing in the main pool. Not long after we arrived a number of families left so The Chef decided to go for a dip. Not long after that I decided to throw caution to the wind and climb in. Once I was in it was a delightful temperature and at that depth I could just walk around.

Eventually I told The Chef I was going to attempt a few strokes heading for the side of the pool. I think I managed half a stroke because as my arms moved back my head and torso dived like a submarine. Worse than that I lost one of my ear plugs. I was hoping it would float, but no such luck. Having spotted it on the bottom I tried to grip it between my toes and bring it to the surface but without success. Finally The Chef suggested I just take a deep breath and stoop down to pick it up. Soon after my head went down it came up again because I suddenly realised the whole point to my wearing the ear plugs is to keep my ears dry and infection free, submersing one of them wouldn't be helpful.

After lying in the sun for a while to dry off we made our way back. It had been a nice little excursion and we shall leave here in the morning with very fond memories of Camping Provence Vallee.

Just the one photograph today reflecting our level of inactivity. I could have taken the camera down to the pool but if parents objected to their young children being photographed I could have ended up being tied to the back of a car and dragged around Manosque, which I wouldn't have minded too much if they'd dragged me down and shown me Boulevard Charles de Gaulle.

The Nursing Home

A typical caravanner

SATURDAY 17-5-25

The lady next door from ACSI came and introduced herself yesterday evening. She asked if we could fill out a questionnaire about the campsite as part of her visit. I was happy to do that especially when I got a free ACSI biro pen and puzzle book. Her dog, a black Scottie dog is still a nasty little thing but after my free biro she's my new bestie. I did add at the bottom of the form a request that ACSI consider changing the GPS format in their books from degrees, minutes and seconds to the format used by Google Maps which is degrees and fractions thereof. I don't suppose anything will come of it but there's no harm in asking. The lady did remark how few Brits she was coming across on her touring around. We said the same, maybe they'll be coming later. I think we've only seen three Brit motorhomes since we left Calais and they were all on the campsite beside the River Dordogne.

It was another quiet night followed by a slow pace to get ready to go in to town to look around the market. So much so we missed the bus which left just after ten. There wasn't another one for about an hour and so we decided to walk down the hill. It's always the uphill return that causes the grief.

It was a pleasant walk in to town and on arrival we headed straight for the market. It wasn't as big as remember it from last time, but that's memories for you. The Chef had four things on her shopping list two of which, strawberries and tomatoes she bought on the market.

After wandering around for a while we popped in to the Tourist Information Office to enquire where we would find the bus stop for our return journey. We knew it's name, but not having arrived on the bus we didn't know where to find it. The helpful young lady told us that due to al the roadworks the bus doesn't go down that particular road at the moment and instead we should go to Boulevard  Charles De Gaulle and marked it on a map. It looked straight forward enough, but oh dear, we couldn't find it. Following the map we'd ended up on another street which we didn't know the name of so couldn't get our bearings. We wanted the 113 service, but the bus stops there were for the 112.

After a while two young girls about fourteen years old came past and said "Bonjour" and we replied accordingly then I pounced and asked for their help. Bless them, they didn't seem to know where Boulevard  Charles De Gaulle was, and they lived there, but with the use of Google Translate on one of their phones they took us close to where they thought we wanted before we parted and they went off in a different direction. We made the left turn as directed and ended up at the train station with numerous bus stops outside, none of which we wanted. The Chef spoke to a couple of older girls who told her we were a long way from where we needed to be. To make matters worse there were no taxi's on the rank, had there been we'd have jumped in one. There was only one answer, we'd have to just do it the hard way and walk back, yes, and up that bloody hill. That walk was about two miles and it felt like it in the heat. In total we walked about four miles today when the original plan was for us to let the bus do all the hard work.

When we arrived back all we wanted to do was sit and cool down followed by a nice cold beer. Sometimes only beer will do the job.

What was left of the afternoon was spent outside sunning ourselves. I couldn't help but notice the lack of activity around the Nursing Home complex over the hedge. The last time we were here we could hear music and singing from afternoon entertainers. This time nothing. Not a peep. I did see a couple of elderly folk pass across my line of vision but it was hard to tell if they were getting some exercise or trying to escape. I don't think it's been the same since Dignitas took it over.

I think it's the Eurovision Song Contest tonight. What a farce that is. I've no doubt that his year Isreal will come last because they just can't get out of the habit of bombing the crap out of and starving the innocent people of Gaza, just so that they can get to Hamas terrorists who hide among them. The winner? It could be anybody and certainly nobody with a good song.

FRIDAY 16-5-25

Whilst washing the bedding yesterday we took the opportunity to swap to the summer duvet. I can tell you that now because I survived the night not having perished from hypothermia.

We had plans for today, but for once, given their inaccuracies, we failed to check the weather forecast, not until this morning when we were informed that the whole day from about 10:00 was going to be one of thunderstorms and rain. So instead of having our showers after we'd been down to the pool we had to drag ourselves down to the shower block first thing and do the necessary. I continue to be confused about who should be where in the two sections. But at least when I came out of my shower cubicle I didn't get to see two females, one having a shave in the sink and the other using a urinal. We live in strange times.

At least by not getting to the pool I was spared the risk of drowning. The Royal Navy's unsuccessful attempts to teach me to swim has been covered somewhere on a previous trip.

We battened down the hatches and spent the morning reading with the fan heater on low just to take the edge off as there wasn't one spot of blue in the cloudy sky and the temperature had dropped.

Once again the forecast was wrong and when we eventually convinced ourselves the rain really had stopped we decided to take a wander down to the Petanque pitches for a game or two. Predictably The Chef beat me 3-0.

The campsite had its annual ACSI inspection today. I know that because the ACSI inspector arrived this morning and despite 85% of the pitches being empty she parked next to us, not only that parked nose-in which means we've lost our privacy because our habitation doors face each other. Worse still she's got a nasty little dog that does a lot of growling when we step outside.

By the time we returned 'home' our neighbour her bike and her dog were out somewhere and we enjoyed a spell sat outside in the sunshine although there is still a bit of a breeze about.

This evening I think we'll watch a DVD and prepare ourselves for an  exciting day tomorrow. We're going back in to town, on the bus this time, and will visit the market. Whoopee!!

This has been a bit of a nothing week, though it was not meant to have been for  whole week. We move on again Monday heading for Villenueve Loubet near Nice.

THURSDAY 15-5-25

The Chef got to choose last night's TV viewing and she selected 'Grimsby'  a cheapo DVD film from Amazon written and performed by Sacha Baron Cohen. In typical style it was crude and not very funny. Still it passed a bit of time.

Today I pretended to be a caravanner.

We awoke it good time but were less than enthusiastic to put our feet on the ground. I wandered down to the shower block electing to go in to the section with urinals clearly visible in them. In no time at all I had a female enter the cubicle next to mine, and when I left and walked around to what I thought should be the female side there stood a chap having a shave in a sink. It's all rather confusing. Maybe it's a campsite for transvestites where campers can be whoever they want to be.

After scrubbing up it was time to lash the washing line to the tall hedge on either side of the pitch on which we would be drying the sheets. Washing the sheets tends to be my perk, and they had to be done one at a time because the clothes washing sinks weren't very big. No matter, the job got done along with washing the pillow cases and a few other bits.

Because I couldn't get very much height to the line there was only room for the sheets. Everything else had to be hung on the folding clothes airer. But we were tight on space, hence the 'pretend to be a caravanner'. These people invariably park their caravan on their pitch, erect the full length awning beside it and then, having pretty much run out of space on the pitch they're paying for, park their car on a vacant one, which means when people like us turn up we have a reduced selection of pitches due to their selfishness.  So because we are surrounded by empty pitches I erected the airer on the pitch next door and that solved the problem.

We only had about two new arrivals this morning one of them being a campervan. Predictably they chose to pitch near one of the two open toilet blocks. That's because despite having spent fifty to seventy thousand pounds on a glorified van with a pop up roof, there's no room in them for a toilet. This means that during the night you lay there listening to the woooosh-boom, as the sliding door comes open and they climb out to go to the loo, then it's a woooosh-boom as they slide the door closed behind them. When they return it's another woooosh-boom as they open up and a final woooosh-boom as they slide the door closed behind them. That's why we like to pitch away from the toilet blocks.

The campsite probably only has about six or eight pitches taken, it's so quiet. It must be like turning up for a week at Butlins Holiday Resort at the beginning of the season and finding you're the only guests there.

Best of all we don't have any noisy dogs on site. I have noticed that during this trip French campers do at least have proper-sized dogs which are pretty chilled and quiet. Before long I imagine the Brits will arriving in these parts bringing their neurotic quivering yelping balls of fluff with them. We had a name for dogs like that in the Navy, we called them 'Fa**y Lickers'. But enough of that.

This afternoon we took ourselves down to the lovely pool only to find we had it all to ourselves, and that lasted for about an hour and a half, and then only four other people turned up. Having established the whole pool is 1.3mtrs deep I think we might well return tomorrow morning and I just might get myself wet. It needs to be the morning because I suspect the weekending families will be turning up, especially in the holiday caravans and it will get noisy and busy and the kids will start peeing in the pool.

On a previous trip we have actually walked up to the tower on the hill behind the town.

WEDNESDAY 14-5-25

Unfortunately French pigeons wake up the same as those back home - 05:30, they then encourage others to join in with the dawn chorus. Never mind I'd rather listen to that than rush hour traffic.

Today's weather forecast was for cloud and sunshine this morning followed by rain from 12:00. After yesterday's forecast we decided to go in to town anyway and just carry macs and a brolly in my backpack, just in case.

Before showering The Chef gave me a wrapping of clingfilm on my forearm, the last time I'll do it. Once down at the shower block imagine my delight at discovering I had failed to put a replacement disposable razor in my toilet bag when I threw the last one away a couple of days ago. So it didn't take me too long to get scrubbed up before returning for a rub round with an electric shaver.

We left for town at 10:55 enjoying the pleasant downhill stroll before the bit of steep uphill as we approached the town's fortified walls.

We were amazed just how much road reconstruction was going on there, and not just roads, it was paths and fountains. I would have thought they'd have done that sort of thing earlier in the year and got themselves straight before the tourist season.

Wandering around the old town is about all there is to do here. We were saddened to see that the fountain we had sat on to eat our rotisserie chicken and chips swimming in olive oil on a previous visit has been removed but looks as if it will reappear after they've finished some base work on it.

The Chef took the opportunity to buy some more tomatoes from one of the roadside stalls. The  market proper being on Saturday which we shall return to attend.

After only about two hours since leaving the campsite we were ready to make our way back. It took us a little while to get our bearings for the return but soon we were beginning the climb up the hill leaving town. On the way back I decreed that next time we will be using the bus. It's hard to believe that there are two different bus services with bus stops right outside the campsite gate and yet, as always, we do it the hard way.

Once back we enjoyed lunch with a nice cool beer followed by a sit outside in the sunshine watching the clouds increase and look more threatening. Thus far, although there have been a few spots o rain, just like yesterday it has failed to come to anything, and if it does now it won't really matter as it won't have spoilt the day.

Whilst sat there I asked The Chef why, given how lovely the countryside is in France, and which is much less populated than the UK, would illegal migrants want to pay a people smuggler thousands of pounds to cross the English Channel only to find themselves living in an overcrowded multicultural shithole somewhere in the Midlands or North of England. If I were them I wouldn't call that a good deal, but then I remembered once they reach the UK they won't have to do another day's work for the rest of their lives and once they've been given permission to stay neither will all their family members, aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents and particularly those that have nasty expensive to treat medical conditions.

Tomorrow is forecast to be hot and sunny all day which probably means it will rain, but if they're right we'll be washing the bedding and getting some chores done before going down to the pool and relaxing there. Who knows we may even have a game or two of Petanque, but only if The Chef lets me win.

Between showering and hand washing - it's holding out.

TUESDAY 13-5-25

It was a peaceful night here at Camping Provence Valley and we were up at a reasonable time. Having looked at the weather forecast last night telling us today was going to be cloudy with sun until 18:00 after which there would be a few hours of rain, our cunning plan was to do the hand washing and having hung it out relax in that sunshine before having lunch and wandering down the hill in to town.

My first problem was how to keep the dressing on my arm dry whilst having a shower and doing the washing. The solution was a wrapping of clingfilm applied with precision by nurse Rosina. In addition I shaved with an electric shaver to avoid both arms going under the shower head whist a I had a wet shave under it.

After a successful visit to the female showers ( I hadn't spotted the urinals in the other one), I set about my hand washing, followed by The Chef after I returned from the washing facility. The clingfilm had held up pretty well and having finished with wet jobs for the day I removed both the film and the dressing so that the sun could get to work on it aiding the healing process. I'd used paper tape to keep the non-stick dressing in place yesterday, and this morning was reminded how painful it can be pulling sticky tape off hairy skin.

It was only after all this that I took another look at the forecast. Oh dear, they'd changed their minds, and were now telling us it would now only stay dry until 15:00. That scuppered things a bit and with a much smaller window to leave the washing to dry whilst we popped in to town, we decided to stay 'home' and get the washing dry.

The sky began to look very threatening at about 13:00 when we had a few spots of rain and many of the clothes had yet to dry. It would have been problematic to have bought wet clothes in to the vehicle for the night and so we wound out the awning and moved everything under that. Should it rain, everything would remain dry although I don't like leaving the awning to get wet, any more than I like leaving it wound out overnight. We tried that once in Spain and soon after hearing it groan a bit in the breeze we got out of bed, dressed and wound it back in, never to be repeated.

They say necessity is the mother of invention and it wasn't long before I had a lightbulb moment and had the ceramic fan heater on the table oscillating along the line of clothes on full power. Eventually everything was dry allowing the heater, airer and awning to be put away.

Within a few hours we'd cracked the washing and drying, and frustratingly those spots of rain never came to anything, the threatening clouds kept missing us, and eventually the sun came out and we went to bask in its rays again. So another wrong weather forecast upset our plans for the day. In my days involved with meteorology in the Royal Navy over fifty years ago our weather forecasters were a damned site more accurate than those of today who are assisted by supercomputers and weather satellites. I think forecasters get things hopelessly wrong should be taken out to the staff car park and given fifty lashes in front of all their colleagues. Perhaps then they'll focus on a bit more accuracy.

Tonight's gastronomic delight will be a joint effort between The Chef and myself. She will be in charge of chips and salad whilst I attempt to cook some chicken drumsticks on a griddle over a gas ring. I left my beloved gas powered Weber Baby Q barbecue behind. Lovely though it is it takes up a fair bit of room, is fairly weighty and, like all barbies takes a lot of cleaning afterwards.

We tend to eat self catering, although the European camping style is to go out for the evening meal. It's a habit for the French and Spanish who have nothing else to do with their time, whilst for the Germans it's a very welcomed change from a plate of boiled cabbage and a few frankfurters throw in, though I suppose being a German delicacy they should be Fritzfurters.

Tomorrow we shall be up and scrubbed and down the town in the morning and to hell with what their latest guess is regarding rain.