During our three weeks’ stay at Cap d’Agde there was no urgency to get up early, the sun continued to shine, I had my sun lounger to sprawl on, the beach close by, the Mediterranean to swim in and there were plenty of bars and restaurants within walking distance for us to visit and people watch.

We know the area well and we enjoyed our day trips to surrounding villages especially, having packed our shucker, to Bouzigues where we often bought two dozen large fresh oysters (locally known as # 2’s) at a time. We’re thinking it would be a very good place to have a retirement pad as the location is inbetween three airports and by the sea. I can already hear you thinking that if we do get a place you’ll come visit and stay with us and we’re already thinking how much fun that would be.

Our neighbours from Switzerland Chris and Erja (who is actually Finnish) often accompanied us on some of our outings and shopping trips. The Poacher isn’t the most comfortable car to travel in the back, but somehow we always managed, even this time with our pooches Stella and Luna.

They (Chris and Erja, not the dogs) were always great company and happened to be with us when we purchased a litre and a half of Muscat from a local supermarket which was decanted from a barrel into a plastic container. After a year of an ignored box of cooking utensils stored in the back of the Poacher (in the unlikely event we ever got stranded and desperately needed to cook), the tin mugs made a useful debut.

Returning to the campsite one afternoon, I was pleased to spot the owners of a trike at Security. I’d spotted the shiny white trike in the campsite days ago whilst cycling around and seeing them about to leave towing the smallest caravan I’d ever seen, I quickly asked for their permission (remember there is strictly NO photography allowed in the Village) to take a photo. Luckily, the only snap I managed to take worked out well. Steve did ask me if I heard any of the staff at security shouting out at me ‘no photography’ but I was so focused I didn’t hear them at all.

Our lifestyle has all been so idyllic that I didn’t understand why after ten months of successful travelling I hit ‘the wall’ and so hard.  I had sudden fatigue and loss of enthusiasm to cope in the caravan and longed for everything back home, convincing myself that I missed all of it and especially things I didn’t really need. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but when did a woman ever have to make sense? That’s called a “sanity clause” or “insanity clause” depending on where you are standing at the time!

Steve knows I need my own space now and then, so he wasn’t sure whether to give me what I was asking for – space – or what I needed, a tight cuddle. The tight cuddle works every time and I made sure I got even more of them than usual, which Steve has in abundance. Shared cuddles and hugs are good and solve a multitude of sanity clauses.

Over drinks one evening Chris, Erja, Steve and I looked at the weather forecast for the coming weekend. Steve and I were thinking of leaving on the Monday and they were thinking of leaving on Sunday after the Agde Saturday night fireworks to mark the end of the holiday season. We all agreed we would go out for dinner together Saturday evening, watch the fireworks at 10pm and think about whether to leave on Sunday or Monday.

Suggested by the other two, we had our final dinner at a little Italian place in one of the covered shopping malls. Considering we were on the French Riviera, we were delighted to see how reasonable the menu prices were especially the alcohol column. Just before our meals were served a strolling band came by, sounding much as you would expect in New Orleans and we felt blessed to have such quality live entertainment. The band members encouraged by our enthusiastic appreciation stopped to give us a full rendition of their repertoire and the musicians took turns to stand up front and perform their solos. What a way to end a last night. Definitely RPRT.

We didn’t bother standing outside to watch the fireworks as it was raining heavily and having scrutinised every weather forecast app we all decided we would leave Sunday morning. Our main decision for this is that most HGVs are banned from French roads for twenty four hours Saturday night to Sunday night which makes towing the caravan easier for Steve – no slip stream.

I had to double take when we got up Sunday morning. Overnight the temperature had changed from Summer scorchio to Autumn brrr. For the first time since May/June I donned a pair of jeans, socks and shoes not having been out of shorts, tops and flip flops since then. Not only that, but as we began to leave Languedoc – the home of France’s best oysters – we had to put the heater on in the car and I was still piling on the layers to keep warm. Our destination was Creuse, Boussac in central France to the campsite where we volunteered through March 2019. We joined quite an exodus heading north, even without the HGVs, and through the drizzle spotted many a vehicle towing their jet ski or speed boat.

When we arrived at Cap d’Agde Village, the campsite was quite full. After our three weeks, it was obvious the main season was definitely over and that Sunday morning we followed many who had already left.

View from the Cockpit

50 weeks out, and thoughts are inevitably turning to home, and family and friends. Two more hauls of the caravan, the first to Normandy, and the second to the port, and through to home. Under current government rules we will need to sit on our drive in splendid isolation for the next ten days, finally emerging into a somewhat changed GB we read.

I’m not sure it has changed that much. We left just before a Cwave hit, we saw Christmases cancelled, Turkey shortages, and general disparagement with a government flip flopping all over the place. We now read of more potential Cwaves, measures, shortages and even more disparagement.

Throughout this year we have seen other countries in their fight against Covid; the Spanish area restrictions, the Italian “Don’t leave the house”, Croatian dinners outside until 8 , Montenegrin Masks, and Albania’s somewhat lax approach. France has been a real challenge as we cannot book into campsites, eat in restaurants or even visit places without a “Q” code, which in theory we should renew every three days at 60Euros a pop. We have observed rules of 4 , 6 and 8, distances of 1m 1.5m and 2m. We don’t hug strangers, and we live an outdoors lifestyle. Borders have been a “testing time”, mostly we have taken tests and presented them at borders, just 25Euros each, we have presented them at the border, with our passports and they have waved us through.

Not so GB, we require an Antigen/Lateral before we get on the ferry, We need to pre register our intention to visit GB we need to buy two expensive PCR tests for day 2 and day 8, and sit on our drive for 10 days – apparently people will call to confirm we are so doing, yet still UK is top of the table for Covid – What mess are we coming back to?

Over the past 50 weeks we’ve seen Europe through very different eyes, and we’re hungry to get back and see some more. Firstly though we’ll go to the shops (if we can get diesel) enjoy some Turkey (if any gets through) change our “GB” Sticker for the “UK” sticker (yes really!), enjoy meeting our GB (sorry UK) friends and family and discuss our forthcoming plans over a bottle of wine – as we’re currently panic buying France’s production!