Day 1 – Wednesday 6 August

Rather excited.  The caravan is packed.  I don’t think we’ve forgotten anything. I’ve stuffed our small caravan fridge and cooler box with frozen food and ice packs.  Our back caravan food shelf is full with dry food and we have every spice, herb and cooking sauce on board I can think of.  Rather fewer and more sensible clothes than last year – well, last year Steve and I weren’t living together yet, it was our first holiday together and I wanted to dress to impress.  8 Salamanca has been cleaned and there is fresh linen on everyone’s bed for our return.

I have Ain, Eliza and Lydia here.   The girls with Eliza have spent the day pampering themselves, which was fun to watch and photograph.  We’re all ready for Steve to come home and depart for our three week adventure. 

Luckily Steve arrives home earlier than anticipated, around 6pm and Sam arrives to collect Eliza.  We talk about our respective holidays; the girls totally unaware that the parents have schemed for them all to be together for a few days from Monday in Camping du Lac, close to Mimizan Plage.

I tell the girls, there is only one rule and that is that ‘there are no rules’.  They are delighted.  I further tell them that there is no job share, but instead we will have consideration for our fellow travellers.  More cheers.

Saying our goodbyes to Sam, each wishing the other a good holiday, Aine and Lydia say their farewells to Eliza and we manage to leave for Dover around 7:30pm.  Our girls make themselves comfortable on the back seat with fluffy cushions and throws.  I’m riding shotgun and have an organiser for easy reach of our booking references, tickets and important documents. Thankfully the journey is uneventful, we arrive at Dover as planned and the bags of crisps and treats are handy snacks on the journey.

At Dover, we settle Stella into the caravan and make our way to one of the lounges where Aine and Lydia claim a rather nice Roman style sofa – long enough for the Wilks clan with a head rest either end.  I’m determined to treat everyone to a drink so I can make use of our P&O £5 voucher, and eventually manage to spend my money.  The ferry departure is only slightly delayed by half an hour and off we go – Team O’Wilph

At the other end, decanted back into the Discovery, Steve decides to drive for a couple of hours using motorways and tolls.  The girls fall asleep quickly propped up on their hand luggage suitcases.  My eye lids are heavy, but every time I am just about to drop off, Steve talks to me and I then try and stay away to keep him company on his night drive in the rain.

At silly o’clock we pull into a motorway service station.  I make up the double bed in the caravan, where the two girls and I crash fully clothed under their throws and a duvet, and Steve settles himself on the back bunk. 

Day 2 – Thursday 7 August

Waking up around 9am Steve and I try to get a breakfast ready and wake the girls gently.  Well, as gently as we can.  Thanks to a full food store, we have fresh juice and cereal for breakfast.  A quick visit to the services to brush our teeth, apply another layer of deodorant under our clothes and we’re off.  The girls less awake than last night and drifting off now and then.  I stayed awake to keep Steve company.

Driving in the rain, again, with a comfort break for Stella and us, we eventually arrive at Camping La Breteche, Base de Lousirs,  with fuel light just flickering on.  We have chosen this campsite as it is the closest to Puy de Fou where we intend to visit Friday and Saturday.

Our couple of trial weekends in the caravan have paid off.  We send the girls off for a reccie and systematically set up the caravan and the awning.  Steve had bought a 4 man pop up tent on Ebay which fitted perfectly into the awning for the girls to have their own ‘private space’.  With the girls exploring the swimming pool and everything set up I drag Steve to the bar for a very well earned drink.  A BBQ was planned for our evening dinner.  However, when we saw that the bar had arranged a live band and mussels and chips for €8 per head there was no contest on how to spend our first evening dinner in France.  Mussels and chips it was going to be.

The heavens began to open and we ran to the awning to take cover and prepare the dinner table.  Aine and I did the rain dance dash for trays of food.  I wouldn’t say that we were hungry but having only grazed on snacks all day, we savoured each mouthful of mussels and chips dipped in ketchup.  It was suggested an early night would be appropriate for our full planned day tomorrow and I was the first to crash.

Day 3 – Friday 8 August

Despite the band’s best volume and beat efforts to entice us to the dance floor plus the downpour through the night bouncing off the caravan and awning I managed a very reasonable night’s sleep.  We woke up to rain and determined to have a good time at Puy du Fou I began to prepare a full English breakfast.

Raining again, Steve said as the fuel light had just come on and we should have at least 25 miles in the tank it would be prudent if he and I went to a gas station and filled up so that’s what we did leaving the girls to have fun back at camp.  The fuel station was only about 2 miles away and as we drove in, the engine expired, just feet away from the Diesel pump.  Unfortunately uphill and with the engine dead the car was too heavy to push.  The lovely French lady in the Pay Kiosk lent us an empty litre water bottle and we filled it three times to put some fuel into the Discovery.  Steve knew the engine had to be primed to get it started again and luckily he had a signal on his phone to look up the procedure on Google.  Both of us staying calm and having a giggle. 

Eventually we drove the Discovery to the Diesel pump and filled her to the brim, then a quick visit to the adjacent supermarket and back to camp.  It was still raining but our spirits were not dampened.

At 2pm, feeling we could leave Stella behind for a few hours to visit Puy du Fou off we went.  We parked the car in a relatively empty car park and walked to the entrance just before the heavens opened on us.  The girls and Steve bought black ponchos and I didn’t bother as I was wearing my anorak which had a hood.  However, when we entered our first show, Medieval Knights Fighting, the rain started to come down in sheets and I ran to purchase a poncho too.  I’d heard that the seating could be rather hard on pampered derrieres, so I purchased some garden kneeling pads before we left to take with.  They were perfect for the job.  As it was raining, we had something dry to sit on and were comfortable too.  We also saw re-enactment of the Coliseum, Vikings and King Arthur and the Round Table.  We couldn’t believe how amazing and full on each show was, until we saw the next.  All the actors gave their all, despite the weather and only partial audiences.  We raced between shows, not slowing down to admire the landscape which was impossible as visibility was so restricted, only stopping for drinks and ice creams.  I couldn’t resist treating the girls despite them having their own daily allowance.  Steve didn’t mind being spoilt either.  During the last show Steve laughed and told me to look at my hands.  Having sat in the rain for some 4 hours they were really bath wrinkly.  When I looked I announced they were blue too!

We had a great day and returned to a happy to see us Stella and dry caravan.  Ponchos hung up to dry Steve and I prepared a BBQ dinner full of excited conversation of what we’d seen that day and giggles.

Looking back, we all made the very best of the day, the weather not dampening our spirits and not one of moaning.

Day 4 – Saturday 9 August

The night before we said we would leave by 8:30 to catch the remainder of the shows at Puy du Fou and managed to leave by 10. Having seen four amazing shows the day before our expectations were about average.  The Fighting Nights had fire, stunt action and racing horses.  The Coliseum had chariot racing, live lions and other animals. Surely there wasn’t anything else they could do to impress any of us.

Yesterday, when it rained we walked into each show without a queue and choice of seating.  Today the traffic was queued back to our camp site and limped to the entrance where the parking was well organised again.  With the weather basically dry and the sun making an appearance which has brought out more visitors.  This means that there is a queue for each show so we plan carefully, having missed the first one we planned, and got to each of the others at least a half hour early.  Without the rain we were able to stroll through the park and admire it.  Today the park was selling sun hats instead of Ponchos.  We could see where we had been the day before and plan carefully not only where we wanted to go, but also take unlimited photographs. Completely stunned at yesterday’s spectacular shows and stunts, moving scenery, quantity and quality of actors we are blown away again.  We finish with a birds of prey show.  The finale is a release of birds from an air balloon high up in the sky finishing with about 100 circling around us.  Absolutely unbelievable.  Each show outshone the next.

We went back to see Stella and pack dinner bags for the evening show.  Kitchen service in full swing I asked the girls and Steve exactly what fillings they would like in their fresh French bread and off we go again.

The evening show didn’t start until 10pm and seated early we began to munch our packed dinners.  We’d taken our ponchos, despite Steve saying the forecast was good and it probably wouldn’t rain.  As we sat down in our seats on top of our comfy mats, it began to rain and our ponchos were taken out of their packaging (having dried from yesterday) and quickly put on.  The seating was full to watch about 1,200 volunteer actors tell their story again a backdrop of village, castle, lake and grounds.  Steve summed it up by saying the production would put any Olympic opening ceremony to shame.  Describing this as a show, is akin to saying Cirque du Soleil is just an acrobatic act.  Almost a two hour show, which flew by, we left totally buzzing.

Day 5 – Sunday 10 August

It rained through the night but luckily stopped whilst Steve and I packed up camp.  We were able to pack in the dry, but the awning was put away damp.  Urghh.  Pushing the girls for an early start, they had no idea our plan was to get to the next Campsite to meet up with the Landers Family.  As stocks are diminished through eating them, breakfast is reasonable but not quite as full on as the past couple of days.

We calculated a 4 hour drive taking maybe 5 towing the caravan, but with a break it took 6 hours.  Despite Tom Tom’s best efforts to route us elsewhere we arrived at Camping due Lac, Ste Eulalie en Borne, Aquitaine,  in sun shine (hopefully having left rain behind us) where we were booked in from Monday x 4 nights and hoped they had availability tonight for us.  We were in luck.  They did.  The lady in the office showed us our plot by cycling in front of us.  She said not to take too much notice of the one way signs as children rode their bikes everywhere and all car drivers ignored the signs.   We couldn’t stay at the Landers camp site as it only took mobile homes, so this was the closest we could get to them.  The girls did their reccie whilst we set up in our small allocated space, not too far away from the Shower Block.  After a lovely hot shower and freshen up, each of us very slightly fractious being tired, or was it just me, we managed another evening’s feast.

Clearing dinner away we prepared the home cinema.  This was Steve’s and my double bed, with lots of cushions and pillows, throws and duvet.  Laptop set up on a corner shelf, plugged into the sound system and the Love Film Dirty Rotten Scoundrels starring Michael Caine and Steve Martin.  We all settled down to watch Aine, Lydia, Steve and me each stretched out with chocolate and snacks.  Poor Steve, so much driving, he just couldn’t keep his eyes open throughout the film.  The girls thought it funny, I’d seen it before and loved it.

Film finished, the girls retired to their tent and we went to sleep looking forward to waking up to sunshine.  Surely after 4 mornings of rain it was the least we deserved.

Day 6 – Monday 11 August

After breakfast and tidying up, the girls went to the lake to swim and I did a little work having managed to convert a team building proposal.  I visited the Shower Block, but found the hot water in the shower, wash basin and washing up area barely tepid.  Ah well, maybe it had just had heavy use.  At mid-day Steve and I took Stella to find the girls on the beach and meet up with the Landers family.  How Steve had managed to keep it a secret I don’t know but it was so worth it.

The girls were dragging their feet.  Why did we have to go to a bar?  Why did we have to go this way?  Why couldn’t we go back to our camp?  As the questions poured out, we covered more ground and got closer to walking towards the Landers.  Eventually the girls laid eyes on each other, but with them being out of context they couldn’t put it together.  Aine said, that looks like Eliza, but it can’t be.  Lydia’s face was a picture and when we eventually stood together the looks on their faces were precious.  All totally worthwhile and a success story.

Back to the bar at our camp, we put chairs together and caught up over a couple of rounds of drinks.  With the sun as last putting in an appearance Sarah suggested we drive to Mimizan and visit the beach.  Well, total agreement to that suggestion!  Packing towels and sun cream off we went.  Mimizan is a lovely small parochial seaside village with a busy main thoroughfare and lots of shops and restaurants.  Walking up and down I looked at all the fresh sea food restaurants and built up an appetite.  We decided on a fast food outlet to suit the 5 girls and our budget and I settled myself with the consolation that I had two more weeks and plenty of time to sample local delicacies.   Tummies full, we made our way to the beach which was sandy and thankfully allowed dogs.  The sea being on the Atlantic Coast was full of riding waves – way to rough and strong for me.  Having set up camp for all nine of us, Stella and I were watch guard and the others played in the sea with their body boards.  With the tide making it’s way in, swimming came to a close and we found a bar which just suited my bum.  I had my first Monaco.  That’s a Shandy with a dash of grenadine.  As we are only together for a few days it’s agreed there will be a BBQ hosted by the O’Wilph Team for all that night.   Ah, quick supermarket trip needed and a list of chairs, cutlery and crockery given to the Landers as we had limited supplies in the caravan.

Dinner for 9 al fresco and we’re set.  The Landers arrive by car with their list ticked off plus even more food and booze.  Steve having a thing for tables, we had plenty of space for a running buffet and sit down meal.  Steve prepared a variety of BBQ meat, I prepared veg and salad and Sarah, being a vegetarian enjoyed the cheese selection.  The children having finished, but the adults enjoying wine, Steve set up our Home Cinema for the 5 girls to watch Cool Runnings.  I have no idea what time the evening ended or when the Landers left us, but it was a great night and I giggled to bed, hiccupping all of the way.

Day 7 – Tuesday 12 August

Did we really create so much recycling last night?  A slow tidy and catch up with work in the morning.  Lydia and Aine cycle over to the Landers with their swimming costumes, towels and body boards.  Steve and I enjoy the morning to ourselves walking Stella by the lake.  To one side of us is a beach and cordoned off area in the water for swimming, dogs not allowed, and to the other wide open for dog walking, strolling and picknicking.

I love this area with the choice of lake positions, space to swim, sunbathe, cycle and walk, all with stunning views.  Early afternoon, after a tannoy storm warning for that night, we too make our way over to La Reserve and the Landers mobile home, the first time I see it.  I get a flash of envy of sizeable kitchen with normal sized cooker and fridge/freezer, indoor plumbing with hot shower and a loo with a loo seat.  The complex is designed for families with lots of choices of on site facilities, swimming pools ( indoor and outdoor), food outlets and cycle routes.  Their beach location on the lake is similar to ours but includes a marina and a more substantial beach bar.  After seeing the girls in the pool, Steve and I join Sam and Sarah for a buffet lunch, chat and glass or two of wine and beer.  The weather through the afternoon isn’t hot enough to sunbathe but pleasant enough to sit out in.

We finally depart around 6ish to return for dinner.  I go to get a shower, but the water is still only warm, so Steve boils some water up in the caravan and I have a bird bath in our shower cubicle.

I thought we did well the previous night catering for a BBQ for 9, but the Landers excelled by miles.  Beautiful food, vegetables, pasta, salad and copious amounts of good wine.  Around 11ish the heavens opened as predicted but stopped for a short while which is when we decided to walk back.  Us making our way on foot and the girls on their cycles.  Just before we arrived at the campsite we received a call from the girls that they were lost.  Steve was incredibly calm and talked them in.  They were very soon safe and sound back with us. 

Once we were settled in the awning and caravan a storm broke and lasted right through the night making horrendous noises on our roof.

Day 8 – Wednesday 13 August

Today is a my ‘me day’ as Steve and Sam are taking all five girls to a water park.  It was the first time I had true ‘me time’ but not private as there were campers on top of me to the left, right, behind and in front.  Despite this I preened and pruned and generally pottered about.  I thought I would go for a shower and hair wash, but again the hot water temperature barely reached tepid, 3 days in a row, and I wasn’t feeling brave enough for a cold shower.  As the weather wasn’t hot enough to sunbathe, too many clouds and a few showers, I took Stella for a nice long walk by the lake towards La Reserve with the intention of propping myself up at their beach bar for lunch, glass of wine and read a book.

By our lake, where Steve and I usually give Stella run I had to fight off a huge male golden retriever absolutely determined to mount Stella.  The owners kept telling me to relax and stop pushing their dog away, but I couldn’t let Stella, who was in heat, be attacked.  It was an ordeal I could have done without and was most unpleasant.  I tried to walk along the shore to the next resort, rather than the set trails, but kept hitting dead ends so my route was a series of circles and back tracking.  Typical me without a satnav!  Unfortunately the La Reserve Beach Bar wasn’t open and I didn’t fancy the crowded bars within the reserve so I made my way back to our bar.  Taking a look at their fast food menu, I decided to return to the caravan and make myself a fresh salad.  I didn’t know what time the troupe would be back, but I hoped around 6ish so we could go into Mimizan for dinner.  I was desperate to have a typical French meal in a French restaurant.  Around 5 Sarah sent me a text to ask if I would like to join her.  By this time I’d done all the tasks I had wanted to and thought it a good idea whilst we wait for the men and girls to join us.

It was really good having had the past two evenings with Sam and Sarah and an evening with Sarah.  I feel we got to know each other, not just meeting up because the girls are friends, and the conversations engaging.

Eventually around 8ish we managed to get through on Sam’s phone to find out they would be another hour or so as they were at the biggest sand dune in Europe.  Unfortunately I wasn’t relaxed enough that evening to realise the troupe might be late and perhaps Sarah and I should have dinner together, plus I hadn’t fed Stella her evening meal yet so I decided to go back to our camp.  I stomped back at being uninformed and disappointed I had spent the whole day, one day of my holiday, entirely alone whilst at the same time was more than pleased that Steve had quality time with Lydia.  I certainly did not deny them time together.

Eventually Steve and girls got back around 10pm.  By that time I was in bed and sulking.  I told Steve I was not a happy bunny.  I was cold, dirty, tired, unable to have a hot shower for three days and didn’t feel at all feminine. That day was the only day Steve has ever not been in touch and it was all due to lack of a mobile signal.  However, that didn’t prevent unpleasant memories from the past creeping up on me or me feeling sorry for myself.

With us leaving early the following morning to get the girls to Bordeaux Airport, the girls packed their cases that night and, with only hand luggage, took care not to pack any liquids.  Although the weather had not been hot, and there had been several showers, Steve and the girls caught the sun bouncing off the water.  The sun tan lotion I sent them out with, returned unused.  I applied sympathetic after sun to Steve.

That night I went to sleep with my fears of being ignored and taken for granted totally unfounded.  Silly me!

Day 9 – Thursday 14 August

Early morning Steve and I woke up to sleepy but happy bunnies to get them to the airport.  We wanted to leave earlier than necessary for the hour and a half drive to ensure we didn’t get caught up in traffic.  We drove through the rain to Bordeaux Airport without hitch and walked as far as we could with the girls for their flight.  Big hugs and thank, we waived them goodbye.

On the way back, we did a detour via a supermarket as tomorrow is a Bank Holiday and we got caught out last year.

Back at  our Caravan in Camping du Lac around mid-day we pack up the girls, air beds, sleeping bags, ten and gather up left over belongings and liquids into the Discovery.  All of a relaxed sudden our awning is empty, windows are open and sunlight floods in.  Steve and I are both organised and tidy individuals and for the first time are ship shape in our own comfortable fashion.  Whilst I enjoyed having the girls, and Steve having a week with Lydia, I realise I missed having any personal space and privacy for a week.  As if by magic, I am with Steve in a continuation of our first caravan holiday marvellous time from last year.

The afternoon is without activity or interruption.  I snooze, Steve works and then I work.  Asked what I would like to do in the evening I suggest a return to the seaside town of Mimizan with Stella.  I cautiously make my way to the shower block and am surprised to be able to have a hot shower and wash away 3 days of bird baths. 

We park where we parked on Monday and walked into town.  Steve suggests a pit stop at an Oyster Bar and I’m in seventh heaven with my eyes lighting up.  My heart leapt out to Steve, the man is quite romantic and always thoughtful.  We dine on Oysters, Crevettes and bubbly.  My holiday has truly started.  Following a walk around the main drag, we return to a traditional French restaurant, which we had both spotted on the way in, and stop for dinner.  In tandem thought as usual.

Tummies full of Moules, sardines, calamari and wine, we make out way back.  It rains through the night.

Day 10 – Friday 15 August

We wake up with the aim of setting off to our next camp site by mid-day.  Even this morning, there was a heavy storm which luckily stopped for a dryish pack down. Time enough for the awning to dry off a little from last night’s rain.  With the girls having departed for the UK, their kit is cleared, the awning is empty and we get on with our chores packing down in our own time.  Sam pops round to say goodbye, wish us well, collect forgotten items from his girls from the day in the water park and we have a pleasant chat.  We’ve had a great time in Ste Eulalie en Born Aquitain, despite the weather, boring bar and cold water due to a broken boiler.

Final goodbyes and hugs with Sam we manage to leave 10 minutes in advance of our schedule.  Only a few minutes into our travel to Bergerac, we find a Patisserie where we can pull up outside with the caravan, so I’m out like a shot to buy fresh bread for the evening, croissants for tomorrow morning’s breakfast and pastries and palmier for the journey.  We are back in the grove of routine of last year’s holiday and I am much more settled.

We’re aiming for St Emilion and decide to find a Naturist campsite called  Chateau Chaudeaux.  The satnav is programmed and it’s not long before it begins raining again.  We’re in no rush and continue in sync enjoying each other’s company.  Our drive takes us through many vineyards and I am amazed that they are both sides of the roads and appear to extend for acres and acres and acres.  I have never before seen such an unending expanse of vineyards before.  The satnav takes us to the wrong place and a quick check with my app Wayz we finally end up at our destination around 5.  It’s the first time I’ve arrived at a Naturist campsite and everyone is dressed!  This site is huge with acres and acres of garden housing a pool, swimming lake and fishing lake.  It’s French owned and we visit the bar whilst we check in and put ourselves down for Sunday evening’s communal dinner.  No-one speaks English which is great as we both practice our French, obviously Steve being fluent and I’m not.

We walk around the site to find a suitable pitch.  What a change from the regular sites of being cramped into a little ‘box’ area.  The pitches are situated in a forest area with natural paths between, everything designed to complement the environment.  As we walk around to do our own reccie for a change, we admire the facilities and meet Felix, a 20 year annual regular to the site.  She fills us in on local attractions and says we must definitely not miss tomorrow’s market in Ste Foy.  Steve is silently choosing his fishing spot and the swimming lake has an inviting beach and shallow swimming area.  The site is not full, so we have plenty of choice and choose a location convenient for all our needs, the bar, the shower block and of course the fishing lake.  

Set up, we return to the bar whilst our dinner of roast pork ribs cook in our oven and catch up with our emails.  Steve trys to send images to Lydia and I catch up with work which, for a change, doesn’t take too long.

Having taken a little longer than anticipated – well, it is a bar! – we return to the caravan for a burnt offering.  My slow roasted pork ribs have become flame grilled.  Still edible, but not quite as planned.  A bottle of red aids digestion and goes down very well.

Day 11 – Saturday 16 August

Wow.  We wake up to a clear blue sky for the first time.  I wonder if I’m warm enough to make my way to the shower block and if the water will be hot or not.  After Steve returns from walking Stella, I haul my arse out of bed and find out.  I am not disappointed.  The shower is great, hot and full force.  There is no queue or crowding, as there is in the regular camps, and as is normal in naturist camps, everyone leaves their shoes at the entrance so the floor is always relatively clean.

We breakfast on yesterday’s bought croissants and jam and before we make our way to the Ste Foy market I insist on us both putting on sun tan lotion as no-one burns on my watch.  Steve laughed and remarked everyone burns on his watch, as evidenced at the day at the water park.  Last year, we went on several large French market searches, mostly without success; the ones we found were interesting but small.  As we parked Ste Foy was quiet without parking frenzy or crowds and I had no expectations.  As we walked towards the centre with Stella in tow what a surprise we had.  Each and every town centre road had been taken over with market stalls, with categories in designated areas to separate fish, meal, deli, fruit, veg, clothes, and everything else anyone might want to find in a market.  My senses are blown away with the sights and smell of every conceivable edible item.  After a leisurely walk around we sit at a bar, overlooking the square (which we couldn’t see for stalls) to have our first Pastis.  I can’t resist catching up with my journal with vigour as I’m so enjoying today and my typical French experience with Steve.  As I write, there is even an accordionist.  What could be more traditional.  I’m loving this morning bathing in the atmosphere of shopping and people watching.  We’re dressed in shorts and t shirts (although the weather is pleasant today, certainly not hot) and the French great each other with typical three kisses.

Armed with our Tesco bag, we begin to make our purchases.  First on the list is a chopping board.  I melted ours last night.  Then it’s on to food.  Fresh oysters, almond croissants and sausison and a final walk around.  We can’t buy too much as our caravan fridge is quite small. 

We return to our site for lunch and I’m desperate to put a wash load on.  The weather has cheered up and families, consisting children, parents and grandparents, are out and about walking and cycling.  This is our very first day without a rain shower and the sun shining.  The washing machine is across the path from us in the Shower block and I make use of a rather large top loader.

We settle in our spacious awning for a buffet lunch of fresh bread with French butter, pate, ham and of course our oysters.  Our washing, having finished it’s circle, is hung on a discrete line by Steve.  At last, clean towels!

We take an afternoon stroll through the grounds.  The outdoor pool only has a few bathers, mostly teenagers, with spare sun loungers.  Not at all cramped or overcrowded.  We walk around the fishing lake where Steve chats with fellow fishermen and is still choosing his spot.  We continue round to the beach and swimming lake.  It’s so much larger and more pleasant than a pool – although not any warmer!  There are three pontoons, one with a slide, children are playing on the beach and swimming with parents, adults floating on air beds on the lake and everyone friendly without being intrusive.  Across from the beach groups are playing boules with loads of verbal encouragement and teasing.  The table tennis and tennis as yet waiting for use.  As we walk around, Steve always moves for one of my hands to hold it.  Just like he’s being doing since our first weekend together in Budapest.

We spend a half hour at the pool side and stretch out between clouds.  Steve encourages me into the pool which is freezing.  I last only a couple of seconds.  Believe it or not, throughout the holiday this is my only dip in a pool.

We return to our caravan and I remark again how each pitch appears to be in it’s own forest area with no-one on top of anyone else.  With a choice of forest trains, some hidden away, it’s almost Tom Sawyer country with the chewed stray, hat or any of the other clothes.  Putting on a slow beef roast, learnt from last night to lower the oven temperature, we walk to the bar for a catch up with emails and work over a bottle of local red wine.

Our evening is not rushed and despite giving the beef 4 hours, whilst it was quite delicious, it could probably have done with another hour for it to fall off the bone.

Day 12 – Sunday 17 August

A peaceful night’s sleep, no thunder storms, but a little cold.  We wake up to our second morning of blue sky, although it doesn’t warm up until at least 11ish, and I wonder if at last the weather is going to be kinder to us.

Today is a fishing day for Steve and possibly pottering and sun bathing for me.  Before our holiday we had a couple of overnights away to test out the new awning.  This included our first weekend near Bicester, a scorcher of a weekend, for Steve to sort out his fishing gear.  It was my insistence that he bring it with as he hasn’t been fishing for quite a while and there’s a lake in a camp with a fish with Steve’s name on it.  Converting the rear bunk in the caravan, he’s furnished a rod drawer which takes up no space and has all his essentials plus bait box which doubles up as a seat.

Around 11:30 I take some refreshments round to Steve and Stella.  He’s picked a spot between trees, so not in sunshine, even if the sun were out.  Certainly not very comfortable for me to perch on the sloping bank.  Apparently the fish are biting but mainly the smaller ones.  Thinking maybe it’s mid-day and it might be pleasant to spend some time by the pool, I make my way over there. I manage about an hour between clouds and then come back as it’s just too cold for me.  I make up a picnic to share with Steve and take it round with more liquid refreshment.  On the way I appreciate again the planning of this site, the cleanliness and design of the shower block and even recycling areas are unobtrusive.  Instead of a labyrinth of tarmac, the various plots are off trails, which cars can drive though, but are natural enough as cycle and walking routes, all fitting nicely into the environment.  Our picnic blanket makes it’s debut appearance and even Stella has a treat from last night – a bone.  The afternoon is mixed weather with clouds, but at least no rain and not too cool.

I return to the caravan to dodge clouds, read and sunbathe, then join Steve again for his last hour of fishing. I take with a manicure set, nail polish and paint my toe nails, so essential to being feminine, whilst we chat away.  There are a few others fishing and Steve claims a total of 40 for the day.  Returning to the caravan we get ready for our communal meal and dress warmly as the temperature plummets in the evening.  We’ve been instructed to bring with our own plates, glasses and cutlery.  Knowing the menu is an aperitif, dinner and half a bottle of wine per head, we take our own additional bottle of wine – just in case!

We arrive at 7 for 7:30pm.  The aperitif is red wine with grapefruit, a take on ‘kir’ from a bottomless decanter.  All 30 or so of us toast each other and we’re seated at the end of the table run so even Stella can join in.  We’re seated to a lovely retired Dutch couple who speak several languages between them; she a retired nurse and he a retired Professor of German not writing saucy novels.

Our dinner plates are finally collected around 9pm to be returned full of goulash accompanied by many bottles of red and rose wine.  There are numerous ‘seconds’ of Goulash which Steve tucks into and flowing glasses of wine; our Bordeaux quite superfluous.

With dinner at an end we move from the restaurant to the terrace where traditional accordion music is being played by the house DJ.  Couples dance to the Tango and expertly demonstrate their French dance steps.  The music deteriorates to the Macarena and some of the women begin to line dance to the next track.  We sit and watch admiringly and Steve reminds me he does not dance.  A jive number is played and I ask a Frenchman to dance.  I’m in luck.  He can not only dance, but also twirls me every which way and with my limited knowledge of Ceroc, know where to look for his lead and catch his hand.

The entire evening is magical.  Not one member of staff speaks English with Steve and I continuing to enjoy trying out our French communication skills.  Eventually we toddle back with Stella to our caravan, with superfluous bottle of Bordeaux to be consumed another time.

I make up our bed for the 12^th time and we crash in each other’s arms.  Just as I drifted off I thought I heard Steve tell me he’s enjoying my company and liked watching me dance but I wasn’t awake enough to speak or return compliments.  As soon as I woke up in the morning of course I remembered what I heard and asked for all to be repeated.

Day 13 – Monday 18 August

We were delighted to wake up without headaches or hangovers from last night.  What an escape!

Today is ear marked for St Emillion wine tasting.  That’s the plan thus far.  For the third morning I make my way to the shower block for communal showers – so strange, but natural, and the rest of my morning regime.  The wash basins are spotless and even have plugs.  What luxury to have a full basin of hot water and no fear of losing anything down a gaping plug hole.  Queues from regular campsites are now hopefully behind me as there never seems to be many others at the wash blocks when I am there.

Naturist campsites are so friendly.  It doesn’t matter where you pass, everyone always has a Bon Jour for you.  Adapting from the regular ones, I forget I’m a cold Brit minding my own business and Bon Jour back.  Our Dutch friends from last night, naturists for over 40 years, love this site as it’s so French (many of the naturist campsites are Dutch), so spread out over such a land space and very friendly.

Ham and cheese crepes later we get ready to set up.  I suddenly realise I have my whole capsule wardrobe to choose from, as the washing has been done, dried and put away.

As we pass the Reception on the way out, we stop to try and pay for last night.  There is no one there and I notice for the first time there is no entrance barrier or key code.  As mentioned, this site is so relaxed, welcoming and laid back with freedom and mutual trust.

Getting to St Emillion was easy, but the parking not quite so.  This stunning medieval village is fully of cobbled streets, some incredibly steep.  Once parked we enjoy walking around and taking photos of the sites and each other.  Yeay!  I’m in photos too! 

Stopping by the tourist office, Steve gets us a couple of tickets for an open top bus tour of the local vineyards.  We have a couple of hours to spare when we spend exploring and having lunch.  Seated as a restaurant I jump up to take a photo of a group and Steve warns me they might be worried that I’m out to steal their camera.  He then remarks I’m so small my little legs wouldn’t run fast enough for a getaway so on second thoughts, it alright.  I find his joke funny and sweet as he takes the micky out of my being vertically challenged.

As always, when seated at a restaurant, one of the waiting staff brings a bowl of water for Stella and we make our choice.

Stella makes her way on to the open top bus with us, I’m seating by the window and Steve at the aisle with Stella between our feet.  What a wonderful way to spend an hour.  The bus has audio narrative and we learn quite a few new facts about vineyards.  The views include unending rows of vines and a variety of Chateaus; absolutely breath taking.  We try to capture as much as possible with our cameras and click away.  I’m convinced most of mine will be blurred from the speed of the bus but I think I got one or two good ones between stops, especially of the vines dripping with overripe bunches of grapes ready for harvesting.  Some were so heavy, they seemed to be dropping their crop.

Walking out of town we passed a shop dedicated to home made macaroons and I couldn’t resist a purchase.  The colours were so pretty and the fillings had to be as delicious.  Steve asked me if my box of macaroons were expensive, so I gave him my stock yes they were expensive answer and replied “It’s very rude to ask the price of a gift”.  Works every time.

Munching our macaroons on the way to the car we decided we had to find a Chateau and do a tasting.  It was not far before we stopped at Chateau Cadet-Pontet.  We had to enter the office and the lady there said she would help us.  We had to leave the office, which she locked up behind us and walk to the main house, which she unlocked.  There was another family, about 8 of us in total, and of course I couldn’t understand any of the tour, but Steve translated for me here and there.

Back at the counter we were told it would be €3 per head for the tasting which we agreed.  Steve and I were rather disappointed at the dribble poured into our glasses and made a purchase of one bottle of St Emillion Grand Cru.  Good news was that if you made a purchase there was no charge for the tasting.

When we returned to Camp Steve emptied his pockets and asked me if I knew what the keys were in his hand.  I recognised them immediately.  They were the set the Chateau Cadet-Pontet lady had to lock the office and open the Chateau.  He’d accidentally picked them up when he scooped his change into his pocket.  He was mortified.  Obviously I reminded him, the lady probably had her car keys locked in the office and couldn’t get home that night.  He told me to stop, so obviously I continued to embellish every scenario I could think of.

That night, when we caught up with our emails at the bar (it was the only place we could access wifi), he wrote one to the Chateaux most apologetic.  I, on the other hand, advertised the keys on Face Book to the highest bidder. Sadly no takers.  After many attempts but failing through tiredness, that night we managed to watch our first French film together all the way through – My Best Friend.  I had seen it before and liked it, Steve wasn’t so sure.

Day 14 – Tuesday 19 August

It’s amazing when you don’t have something how much you appreciate it when you do.  At the regular campsites, there are queues first thing for whatever you want.  Here I walk with a t shirt to the shower block and have it all to myself.  My morning routines carried out in unhurried peace, I return to do the washing up with hot water and the luxury of a sink with a plug in it, whilst Steve takes down the awning.  Having helped all I can, I site in the sun enjoying writing my journal and look forward to our next campsite in the Dordogne, apparently to an area Steve has visited before and knows well.

Making record pack down time, Steve couldn’t find the keys to the bike lock where he had attached the bikes to the caravan.  We made thorough searches, including every bag, nook and cranny in the caravan and car with a fine toothed combe with patience and giggles as he’s always mislaying his keys.  After 20 minutes or so, Steve finds the bike lock keys hung around the bike handle bars.  Naturally I am a quip about him never misplacing keys, wallets or credit cards.  This was our first dry pack down as it hadn’t rained since we left Camping du Lac.

Around 10:30am the sun is shining, not quite enough to bathe my body in warmth, and we reluctantly give the Chateau keys to our reception for them to be delivered back safely to their rightful owners, and check out.  I shall miss this site.

We decide that the route we’ll take will be motorway.  Only an hour into our drive and all each of us can think of is the one almond croissant in the caravan.  We try and work out how to get to it without stopped as I’ve seen many films.  Steve won’t let me out of the window to slide along the car and caravan to get it.  Spoil sport.

We arrive at Souillac and pull into the local supermarket for a few days’ supply and then sit in the car park trying to decide which campsite to say at, both of us Googling and referring to the Michelin Guide.  Steve was keen for it to be on the Dordogne and we decide on Les Ondines because of good write ups and it’s location on the Dordogne and closeness to walk into town.

As we approach the site, my heart sinks.  It’s huge and noisy and just about everything that I hate about regular campsites.  I remind myself that we stayed at one similar last year and had a terrific time touring.  In Reception we check in and are given a ground plan to choose our location.  There are quite a few available so naturally I would like one in the shade for Stella – as if the sun is going to show it’s face – sizeable for our awning and not too far away from the shower blocks.  Tour complete and number 46 chosen we report to reception and get into the car to tow the caravan to our desired location.

A bit tired, a bit weary, a bit hot and wanting to catch the last rays of today’s sun by the pool, I am more than frustration for us to be behind a PSV who doesn’t know how to indicate, doesn’t know where he’s going and holds us up whilst he manoeuvres into his plot and at last let’s us pass to get into ours, just four plots along.  I don’t know if it was the call of the bar or practice, but we achieved record time.  I go to inspect the shower block armed with soap and loo roll. Well, you never know!  It appears modern and delightful.  The showers are in cubicles with a sink and appear to have temperature controls.  No plug in the sink but plenty of room to hang clothes on hooks and shelf for toiletry bag.  The loos have paper.  Slight result.  I then inspect the washing up area and think I’ve walked on to the set of The Sound of Music.  There are 3 Dutch ladies, each with a headscarf – OK maybe they were Mormons – doing their dishes.  I think of quickly getting ours, but we washed up before we left.

At the bar we take our time to order a beer and local red wine with walnuts.  More of a liqueur.  Barely a mouthful in and Steve has begun chatting with an English couple near us who, coincidentally, also have a chocolate Labrador.  Harry is a matron and her husband John is in banking.  They’ve been at this site for 3 weeks and the weather is as good as it’s been.  They have 3 beautiful confident children who have excellent social skills and a pleasure to meet.  He’s having a hard time going through his mentalpause as he repeatedly let’s us know he’s 41.  Apparently John has had reflective lens surgery.  He’s the first person I’ve met who has had this done and I’m dying to chat to him about it.  After a few reciprocal rounds we make our apologies to leave for dinner, which we are keen to have as we missed lunch.  Mussels and chips are on the menu at the bar but it’s not quite tempting enough.

We find out for the first time on this holiday, not only do we have wifi in the caravan for the PC but also both of our phones over the entire site.  Jolly Dee.  I can keep up with work, especially as I have a few proposals to get out.

Together we put dinner together.  I prepare an avocado and Steve does a BBQ.  Quite a fair distribution doncha think?  We finish with Rose and crème brulee.  Goodness, we make a good team.

Day 15 – Wednesday 20 August

Yeay!  We wake up again to a blue sky.  Steve takes Stella for her morning walk and I meander to the shower block.  Modern and almost clean, due to the traffic of children and adults.  I appreciate the shower cubicle having a sink as this means one less futility to queue for.  I turn on the shower and adjust the thermostatic control to hot.  It’s too hot and that’s a first.  I turn it down slightly and have a great shower and hair wash.  Returning to the caravan, having left in sunshine, I meet rain and decide to catch up with some work until we leave for canoeing.

Steve is pottering around and then chivvies me on at 11 because we have to catch the 11:30 coach to our destination to canoe down the Dordogne.  I have 20 mins to get ready and throw a picnic together as we won’t’ be back until 6ish.  I’m angry that he didn’t put a picnic together whilst I was working, but as we’ve never had an argument I bit my lip.  If we were going to have our first argument I wanted to make sure it was a serious one and not trivial.

I’m wrong footed.  I would have preferred more time to put our picnic together.  Have I packed enough and the right things.  I know I’m on holiday and should be chilled, but I’m on holiday and want to do the best I can.  The weather is uncertain and as I hate being cold I donned layers of bikini, t shirt, anorak with jeans, socks and trainers.  Steve said I would get wet so I changed the jeans for shorts and socks and trainers for flip flops.  We’re handed out life jackets at the coach stop and I refuse to put mine on until the other end.  At the other end there is a queue for the canoes so Steve and I take a coffee and the worst hot chocolate ever in the local bar.  All I could think of was that it looked like rain and I had to endure this for 6 hours.

Steve took a photo of my grumpy face.  I deleted it.  We boarded our canoe, Steve at the back facing forward and me at the front facing forward.  Stella was between us.  I’m cold and concerned that my legs are turning blue.  I really didn’t want to do this activity in a rushed way in unpleasant weather and I find I’m not enjoying it at all.  It’s not a pleasure but neither is it tedious.  Just an endurance test.

The Dordogne is very shallow with the water quite clear so you could see the pebbles below. I saw wading fishermen but no sign of fish.  We spotted a few herons and water birds and many other canoeists.  For some reason I just can’t shake my mood.  Going through my head is making do too often with the shower blocks.  Too much driving without stopping to see the countryside.  Too many camp drinks, without visiting local bars.  I was in France and missing it.

Steve tells me he’ll guide us through the rapids, well not rapids exactly.  All of a sudden I got excited.  Rapids.  No such luck.  Currents more like it.  We eventually stop for our picnic lunch which we had to take in the canoe as the ground adjacent was too soggy.  Being a salad person I kept thinking about the food in our fridge.  I take my anorak off, but not for long.  The threat of rain from grey clouds passes but the sun only peeps out now and then.  Whilst Steve paddles, I help with my limited style.  Irrespective of paddling left or right Stella is generally in my way.  I wish I were back.  Maybe I can get a bit of sunbathing in by the pool.

Unfortunately, my mind is also on work as I have a couple of projects with good potential earnings.

I’m not relaxed and still can’t shake the mood.  I hate being rushed, especially on holiday.  About 15 minutes before we reach the end of our journey my anorak comes off again and again I think about the camp’s pool and sunbathing.  It also then dawns on me, the more I help out, the quicker we’ll be back. 

At last we return for 4pm.  The canoe was pleasant but as much as I like water and boats, water with more character and boats with motors suit me better.  Let’s face it, without the sun and the weather being uncertain, today just didn’t do it for me.

We were going to have a drink at the bar but decided on one in the caravan instead.  Whilst I spoke with one of my colleagues on an important proposal, Steve prepared duck legs in the oven.  Then it was back to the camp bar for a pint and wine before dinner.  Sadly, I had missed any opportunity of getting any sunbathing in. 

Day 16 – Thursday 21 August

Steve is anxious as this is the morning George get’s his O level results.  He’s done quite well.  3 x A’s and 2 x B’s.  One very proud Daddy at this end. 

Yesterday I woke up to blue sky and met rain when I came out of the shower block.  This morning I woke up to Autumnal weather, refused to get out of bed until it got warmer, gave in and trundled off to the shower block and came out to blue sky and the sun shining.  We’re about to have our fresh coffee and croissant breakfast outside the awning (I still dream and hope the weather lasts despite the forecast).

Over breakfast we discuss what we’re going to do today, what food we have left in our tiny fridge and what we’ll have tonight.  A visit to the Farmer’s Market is factored into today’s itinerary.  I hump our washing up over to the shower block and am amazing I don’t break anything washing up.  Totally amazed it all got carried back to the caravan in one piece and flabbergasted nothing was cracked, chipped or broken as I threw each piece into it’s place.  I understand I want to get away from Les Ondines but not the black mood which I can’t shake.  Another one!

Today is Rocamadour and I’m excited about a day out.  We’ve not really been out since Monday and I’m looking forward to this.   Weather is pleasant, perfect for walking in.  We park and take our bag with camera and sun tan lotion.  Racamadour is a cluster of 1,000 year old buildings built into a cliff.  We take a few photos walking towards it, some with us in them.  At the top we contemplate taking the lift down but looking at the price Steve says we should walk.  I’m so pleased we took this decision or I would have missed the beautiful caves, pilgrimage icons, sculptures, monastery and breath taking views.  The path is almost vertically straight down and when we hit the main village road, there are wall to wall souvenir shops, restaurants and bars.  I get myself a peach ice cream.  Steve says he’d rather spend his money on a beer.  I said he could have both but he stood firm.  Strolling at a sensible pace we reach the bottom and I hope we find the lift back up to the top.  No such luck.  We meander here and there and end up back at the Street of bars, where right at the end of the drag we stop for lunch, a kir, vin noix, duck and chips and plate de jour.  Replenished we continue walking to the top by which time I’ve burnt off every chip I’ve had for lunch and more.

As we would like a tour of the prehistoric caves, Steve pops Stella back in the car.  The ticket lady says it’s a bit cold in the cave and offers us blankets.  Only I accept.  Our tour is 45 minutes all in French and totally enjoyable.  The temperature not as cool as anticipated – after all, I’ve experienced rain and cloud for most of the holiday so far.  Both the stalagmites and stalactites were beautifully impressive.  There was a shallow pool and in a certain light the stalactites reflected into it giving the illusion of coral garden in Atlantis.  Steve more or less understood the commentary and whispered snippets of translations to me so I could keep up.  Dream on.  Originally I just thought a pleasant trip out.  I never imagined such an enjoyable walk or stepping through 1,00 years of history.  Magnificent.

A short way back in the car we pull into a little village called La Cave, which is where the Farmer’s Market is supposed to be.  We park in the first available space and walk into the centre being lead by French music as per Pied Piper style.  We pass an Artisan Gallery and I am pulled in magnetically to the garden ornaments.  I’d seen some in Rocamadour, but they were too expensive and too amateurish.  These were beautiful and half the price.  I was looking especially for a hanging garden ornament for Robin and Diana for looking after our home.  There was quite a choice which made it difficult to pick one out, but I managed.  It’s a colourful blow fish in blue and red with a swollen belly which hides a compartment to take a t light.  I think it’s perfect and also choose some hand painted cards.  Leaving the shop, we pick up the French music again which leads us to the Farmer’s Market.  Or to be more precise 12 vendors in a field.  From the back of their cars and vans selling from trestle tables.  Nevertheless, produce on sale included bread, walnut oil, honey, cheese wine and delicacies.  We came away with bread, cheese and a melon.  Yum, yum.

What a wonderful day.  Sight seeing, lunch, walking, photography, walking Stella and even a bit of shopping.

Leaving to return to Les Ondines I realise I’ve been wearing the same bikini under my clothes for 3 days.  Sun, where are you?

After a pleasant drink at the camp bar, Steve cooks dinner.  After my lovely duck and chip lunch I have a small appetite if any.

I go to the shower block.  Tonight not 3 Dutch women in head scarves at the washing up sinks, but 3 men.  They are not wearing headscarves, but the first in line is a hippy throw back in his late 20’s/early 30’s completely with long hair, kaftan and beard.  The other two young too, and all chatting.

I brush my teeth, prepare myself for bed and dream of our large clean bathroom with a double tub.

Steve knows I have something on my mind and kindly asks what.  I try to explain that I think the basic shower block facilities are mostly too basic for me.  The first site had queues, so sometimes I didn’t shower.  The second one had a broken boiler, so I didn’t shower, most of them didn’t have loo seats on the loos and I was worried about getting a spotty bum.  Tonight the shower block, with the traffic of children and people was below my acceptable hygiene standard  I’m a person who needs a certain level of cleanliness and am unable to close my eyes at certain things.  I’m disappointed and just can’t get beyond myself.

I also explained we’d gone from campsite to campsite without exploring the areas, as we did last year.  At this one we haven’t even ventured into town which is walking distance.   We agree a very early start in the morning, so as not to lose the whole day, and aim for the Naturist campsite Creuse which we enjoyed last year and which has the fish with Steve’s name on it.

Day 17 – Thursday 22 August

As promised, we make an early start in an attempt to have the afternoon at our next campsite.  Our caravan water pump had expired a few days ago and we’d been told there’s a camping shop on the way.  Funnily enough the lack of water in the caravan affected Steve more than it did me.  Eventually we find the shop and purchase a new pump, then an outdoor outlet, where Steve purchases some sandals to replace his worn out ones, and we are on our way.

Having left a tourist region and tourist over crowded campsite I am delighted to be back on the road with Steve and we arrive at Creuse Nature at just gone 2pm.  The weather isn’t brilliant so we keep out clothes on to choose our pitch.  Elizabeth the owner has our details on her computer from last year and welcomes us back.  We choose a pitch near the lake and walk to the bar to collect our complimentary drink before officially booking in.

Arriving at our pitch we struggle to get the caravan uphill where we want it.  Within seconds, a couple of male campers arrive to help out and easily push us into place.  Exactly the same happened last year, but I don’t think they are the same guys. We get the caravan into place and I ask Steve if I can splat by the pool whilst he sets up the awning.  It’s ages since my bikini has seen the sun and I wasn’t even planning to wear one.  It was delightful to splat in the sun and feel the sun’s rays over me.  I love it here.  It’s spotless and everything so well positioned.  Originally designed and French owned, it’s been Dutch for the past 20 years or so.

Tonight we are joining in the communal dinner.  There’s a band setting up on the terrace, currently naked, and I can see costumes hanging up on the indoor pool hooks.  Should be quite a night.  The Dutch are very excited.  Eventually I find out it’s been a music week and several families have come to Creuse just for that week.

I leave to check on Steve and go to put on my white Birkenstocks, the same sandals I’ve been wearing since I arrived, but they are not mine.  Absolutely same size and identical, apart from being clean, but not mine.  Steve’s got the awning up and says I should go back to the pool, so I do.  There are babies and children, but no screaming or tearing around.  I’m rather hoping my shoes have been returned, but unfortunately not.  I resume sunbathing and when I leave the sandals have been swapped back.  Tidy.

I’m lying in the sun, by the pool, relaxed in a civilised environment now listening to the band doing their sound checks.  They sound pretty good.  I’m still unaware at this time, the musicians are the campers and not professionals.

It’s now around 5:30 and there’s a choir of at least 20 – mostly naked – on the terrace being accompanied first by a piano and then with some brass.  I can’t believe how relaxed I am and how I contemplated driving straight to Calais today.  Their voices are so beautiful, if this isn’t heaven, it’s damned close.

Now go get yourself a cup of tea, coffee or glass of bear and make yourself comfortable because I need to tell you about our evening.

Apparently it’s a music week which happens twice a year and is organised by Creuse and the campers.  The campers, all Dutch, provide vocals and band. Tonight’s musical production is for two hours from 5pm.  In the sun they began mostly naked and as the sun began to set and the temperature dropped, clothes were worn.  Having dressed for dinner, hair done, sexy top and clean shorts, Steve and I return about 6ish to watch the rest of the show.   Between acts there was one of the children on drums.  It was impossible not to notice that he had Downs Syndrome.  A couple of the adults helped out on drums and accompanied him on guitar.  The boy’s face was lit up with joy and it was impossible not be touched by fellow kindness and consideration.   There were several memorable performances, not all for talent, and the one which made me giggle the most was a guy singing When I’m 65 accompanied by a female backing group.  What was so funny was his Dutch accent and enthusiasm.  There was a number with about 30 singers which depleted the audience somewhat.  Their song sounded Polynesian with lots of choruses and harmonising. One of the male singers in the front row was wearing a silver sequined trilby and reminded me of a young Robert Lyndsay.  A rock number began and the thin tall lead singer strut his stuff in shirt, jacket with rolled up sleeves, drain pipe trousers, trendy shoes and baseball cap.  He just wouldn’t have looked the part naked.  Steve and I waited until the end and throughout applauded each performance.  The appreciative audience donned clothes and by the time we were seated for dinner you would never have known we were at a naturist camp from the number of fleeces and warm clothes.  Again we were seated next to a Dutch couple, not the same one, which wasn’t surprising as everyone else was Dutch.

Dinner was preceded by a few speeches.  Elizabeth the owner, to congratulate Chef on his buffet and forthcoming dinner.  Everyone clapped.  The leader of the music week.  Everyone clapped and cheered.  Then general bon vivour.

The starter buffet was amazing.  A really good selection of salad and cold foods, each in it’s own dressing.  With so much choice we didn’t know where to start.  Very relaxed and unrushed we had seconds – even Steve.  The main course was finally served around 10 by which time Steve and I had done our best to appreciate the wines on the table.  Eventually the dessert buffet was served and neither of us could resist tucking in, and again.  Eventually, completely done in and full we made our way back to the caravan.  Having spent the previous night shivering we got out the electric heater which thankfully is thermostatically controlled.

Day 18 – Saturday 23 August

We both woke up warm and snug from having had the heater on through the night, but not too hot.  Steve went for his morning walk with Stella and to meet the fresh bread van.  You always knew it’s arrival by the sound of a Claxton as it came up the drive.

It’s Saturday, there’s no rush and it’s a delicious slow start to our day. We set up the breakfast table in the awning to watch the world go by outside.  There are campers to the left and right of us with a view of the lake straight ahead.  A French couple nearby are loading up their car for a picnic.  Cars have to be parked at the car park at the entrance leaving the campsite car free.  A car struggles to pull it’s caravan out, after recent rain, but fellow campers aid immediately pushing away at the back.  One of them has a Weimaraner off the lead.  I’ve never seen one of these before so well behalf and not running off.  What a beautiful dog.  Nearly as beautiful as Stella.

I just love the slow pace of life here.  No one rushing.  No children running around.  A few people are already set up by the lake.  Steve took a walk round the lake this morning looking for his big carp so he can pick his fishing spot, but hasn’t chosen it yet.  Sometimes the fish cruise on the surface but this one has experience of Steve and although fish aren’t supposed to have a memory, this one is wily.

It’s so peaceful and quiet as previously mentioned, cars are only allowed to the pitches to set up or pack down.

This truly is a lazy day in camp.  A shower first thing, breakfast in the awning and then fishing and reading by the lake.  As Steve sets up I’m able to catch up with emails without a time constraint.  Every time I see a clear bit of sky, I get ready to get my kit off, but unfortunately it’s a shorts a T shirt day today.

Showers are constant through the afternoon so I settle down inside the caravan to read Lydia’s book The Fault Is In Our Stars.  I’m positioned comfortably in a corner so I can read and keep an eye on Steve.  I wonder which will come first.  Steve finishes finishing and returns from the lake or I finish my book.  The two of us finish together at just gone 8pm.  We were going to go out that night for a meal, but it was all too much to stop what we were doing. What a special lazy day, each of us doing what we ish without time constraints.  Fish score – Nil.  Book score – 1.

Sun set, drinks out, dinner is on the go.  Spanish omelette tonight.  I prepped and Steve cooked. Delicious.  Still a little early, so we put our home cinema together and finishing off the white Bordeaux we began to watch Jean de Florette.  I fell asleep half way through.

Day 19 – Sunday 24 August

Yesterday the sky was full of clouds, rain showers and Brrr, it was cold.  This morning, we woke up to a clear blue, but yet to get warm, sky.  Yesterday I was too cold to strip off in the shower block.  This morning I’m practically skipping there.  It’s a circular building with a heated indoor pool and sauna in the middle.  On the outside the walls reach the roof.  Around the edge is the bar, restaurant, showers and loos.  The loos are accessed from the outside, but as the indoor walls do not reach the roof, the heat from the indoor pool permeates these areas.  There is a door through to the showers and wash basins.  Again, the walls do not reach the ceiling/roof and heat is spread from the indoor pool right the way through. The loos and shower/wash areas are never cold.  Additionally, with naturists, all shoes are left at the entrance to the showers/wash basins so the floors are always clean.  At regular campsites people wear their shoes everywhere and if it’s been raining, sand, dirt and earth are walked through.

Having had a superb shower, I skip back to the caravan slightly all over tan and squeaky clean.  Steve is preparing our bikes for our first bike ride into town and possibly Chateau Boussac.  The claxton sounds on time at 9 and Steve purchases our fresh bread, chocolate almond croissants and brioche for the day.  We’ve sat outside for breakfast before but this is our first opportunity to have the sun smile on us.  We take our time with breakfast and I get my head around the cycle trip as I remember from last year much of it was uphill.  I walk over to the lake, only about 25 steps from our caravan and call Steve over to see the fish cruising teasingly on the surface bathing in the sun.  Barely visible, except for the wake they leave behind, then we catch sight of – derh, derh, derh – the big one.  I ask Steve if he’d like to fish as he didn’t catch anything yesterday.  We can always cycle into Boussac either later on or perhaps tomorrow, Monday when the Chateaux is definitely likely to be open.

As Steve collects minimal fishing kit, other campers move their chairs closer to the lake for the sun and the view.  As I gather our picnic blanket, towels and make myself comfortable too, I’m back and forth to the caravan to collect a chair for Steve to sit on, his almond croissant from the oven, a hat to project his head, my journal, camera and sun tan lotion for all the bits of him exposed – remember, nobody burns on my watch!

At around 10:40, only 30 minutes into Steve’s fishing he hooks the biggest carp in the lake and I take loads of pictures, despite the camera battery I charged up last night dying on me.  Last year, when I took a photo of Steve holding a fish he’d caught I made the remark ‘you need a bigger fish’ for obvious reasons (use your imagination) and he’d done exactly that.  A few campers came to congratulate Steve and admire the carp.  I couldn’t take pictures as everyone is naked in today’s glowing sunshine (our first good day).

OK, now I’m worried.  Usually when I sunbathe it’s on my back and the nearest bit of me to the sun is my nose which goes red first.  Now I’m on my front, I think I might need after sun on my derriere.  Can’t wait!  There can’t be more than about a dozen of us, mostly in couples, taking in the sun around the lake.  There’s loads of space and privacy, and my favourite holiday word ‘tranquillity’.  Nobody moves faster than slow, no voices are above an audible gentle chat, people passing walking their dogs with polite and friendly bon jours.  No longer naked, clouds have appeared, I have painted my fingernails to match my toes (painted at the last camp’s fishing day) to match my sunglasses.

So laid back, I’ve only just realised that quite a few campers, the Dutch music contingency, have departed and there are hardly any children.

It’s date night.  We were supposed to go out Saturday night, but the weather was wet, and we just didn’t feel like it.  Tonight is Sunday and it’s a bit of a roulette as to whether we’ll be able to find a local restaurant that’s open.  We drive into Boussac, our nearest village, and nothing is open.  We drive to La Bonne Auberge in Nouzerines, recommended by Elizabeth, but that’s closed tonight and for another week for refurbishment.  However, they recommend a place called Le Chalet des Pierres Jaumatres which is an activity centres, but has a restaurant so we drive there.  It’s open and we’re allowed in the restaurant with Stella.  Looking at the other diners’ plates, it doesn’t look traditionally French and Steve reminds me of the area we are in.  We each end up with a huge plate of perfect chips, Steve with a stead and me with charcouterie, which we share.  Each plate has a deep dish of really think strong cheese fondue.  Way too heavy for me, but at least I started the evening with my first cocktail of the holiday.  Eating slowly, we share a bottle of read and as always enjoy each other’s company.

The cheese fondue is so heavy, I hardly dip into it.  This is probably my least favourite meal I’ve ever had with Steve.  However, it’s a date night out and on that level a perfect success.  We pick up our unfinished bottle of red and make our way back to camp where we settle down for Cinema Night to watch the second part of Jean de Florette, Manon des Sources.  I make it all the way to the sad end, cuddled by Steve.  The heater is on and we fall asleep in no time in each other’s arms.

Day 20 – Monday 25 August

Those sodding cheesy chips have made their way through my body and are determined to depart as quickly as they can which means an unplanned visit to the Shower Block.  I refuse to get out of bed again, too cold, so Steve takes Stella for her morning walk and collects fresh almond croissants on the way back.

After breakfast we tried to reconcile our finances and work out how many more days we could afford on holiday.  It turned out to be a depressing exercise, each of us having spent more than we thought we had, so we stopped.  Then we took into account the weather and thought it an idea to return home Friday and have the weekend to ourselves.

Bikes, oiled and ready to be ridden, we decided to drive into Boussac with Stella as if we got the visiting timings of the Chateau wrong again at least we could dawdle with lunch and/or a drink in one of the bars.

With the Chateau opening from 2pm, we stopped for a drink and natter.  We couldn’t eat as the restaurant had stopped serving lunch.  Well, for us anyway as food appeared later on for another couple.  We parked up by Chateau Boussac in the shade so we could leave Stella comfortable whilst we took the tour.  We’ve waited a year for this and it was so worth it.  Entering through the gates we were met at the Chateau and bought our tickets.  The Chateau was damaged, here, there and everywhere from the 1700’s.  A family bought it in the 1960’s, since when it’s been in the same private ownership, and they appear to have made it their life’s work to restore the building and fill in with antiques to match the years.  We toured a couple of rooms waiting for the actual tour and admired modern tapestries.  There were about 20 of us in the French tour and taking many pictures on my little camera I wished I’d brought the larger one for it’s wide angled lens.  I managed to capture all the images I wanted and had a competition going with myself through the holiday of how many I could take without tourists in them.  Before we left, we admired the manicured lawns and beautiful gardens taking pictures of each other.

It was back to camp, via the local supermarket, snacks, sandwiches (we hadn’t taken lunch), sample some red wine and put dinner in the oven.

Lovely Emma from Engaging Faces has prepared two briefs for me and I’m able to get them off over the Bank Holiday in the UK so recipients have them first thing Tuesday morning, when we’ll up sticks and make our way home.  Whilst I’m sat at the PC working in the sunshine, there are campers throwing a ball for Stella whilst Steve chats with them.

Our slow roast rib of beef is followed by an evening of Gavin & Stacey before we fall asleep to be woken up by the most violent storm.  Probably even worse than all of the others which we’d experienced. 

Day 21 – Tuesday 26 August

Last night’s storm was totally unrelenting in volume and of sound and it didn’t give up until 8:30.  I have no idea what the time was in the middle of the night, but through a particularly heavy rain session, Steve asked me if I still loved him.  He thought he’d taken me to this terrible place in this awful weather and I would never travel with him again.  I couldn’t ask him to stop waking me up because he couldn’t sleep, but automatically answered with all my heart ’I love you loads and loads and loads’.  He cuddled me and I fell asleep immediately wearing a smile.

As Steve hardly slept a wink I’m now worried about him driving today.  Whilst he takes Stella for her morning walk I stir gently to the shower block blessing my full length towelling robe.  I didn’t have one last year, just a fleece, so any bit of me below the him and my feet got cold.

As Steve begins to take the awning down, as I’m dressed I volunteer for the bread van.  What a motley crew of campers in various stages of dress to naked.  That’s brave.  The bread vendor is so polite to each person, welcoming each customer and after they have been served, wishing them a good day.  The sky is grey with hardly any gaps of blue between the clouds.

We have our final al fresco (albeit under the awning without it’s windows) breakfast at the lakeside of Creuse Naturist.  Despite the changeable weather, I shall miss this place.

All packed and ready to go, the only way to get our caravan out of it’s pitch is to push and drive it sideways through two other pitches, luckily empty.  It was all a lot easier and smoother than we anticipated.  Steve sets the natnav to avoid tolls and it will be our first long journey non-motorway.  We pass through many picturesque villages, each different to the next, all quiet and sleepy without he buzz of open shops.  We pass a small fruit, veg and fish market, but unfortunately there’s no where to stop so Steve continues driving.

It’s gone 1pm and I’ve love to find a town square to have coffee and a pastry as would Steve.

Late, tired and having driven through rain we reach Reims and drive right through as we can’t find anywhere to pull up and visit the Tourist Office.  We find the first campsite we can, which is city centre, and pull in.

After setting up we visit the bar so I can catch up with emails.  It’s depressing.  Absolutely no atmosphere.  I ask if we can go straight home but we have to get Stella wormed and won’t’ be able to travel before 24 hours have elapsed.  In any event we bring our ferry back forward by a day to leave Thursday evening.

Day 22 – Wednesday 27 August

The best thing about this place is that Steve found a nearby Vet for Stella.  I venture backwards to the shower block.  I have no expectations but nevertheless take my toiletry bag.  Surprisingly the shower is spacious, clean and the water is hot. I’m ready to face the day.

We set off for Belgium as Steve would like to visit Mons.  Unfortunately, whilst the town is pretty and busy, there is nowhere for us to pull up, with the caravan, to visit the Tourist Office so we continue driving through to Ypres.

Arriving late afternoon the campsite we wish to book into is full but they recommend a nearby one called Ypra.  As we drive towards it, not far away from the town centre, I note it’s near a village and am delighted.  We can go to a real bar tonight and not a camp bar.

The campsite is large but rather old fashioned without pools and as it’s only for one night we’re delighted to get in.  With heavy rains the night before the pitch is sodden and churned up with tyre marks.

I inspect the shower block, which is across from us, and delighted it’s better than some we’ve used, although we have to take our own loo paper.

Steve has barely got the caravan into place and, as is my usual practice of rewarding him with a beer, this time it’s let’s go, we’re having one in the village.  Taking Stella with we’re able to give a good run on the village square before we take a drink at a local bar.

We decide to go into Ypres to have dinner and walk around the centre to choose our preferred restaurant.  There’s something going on and a band is getting together to March off somewhere, presumably for a presentation as there are several dignitaries.  As we walk across the centre, the band sets off and we watch children marching in step, tourists taking pictures and the procession winding it’s way along.  We seat ourselves at our preferred restaurant, able to sit outside with Stella to watch the world go by.  Another pleasant evening together, without either of us running out of conversation and enjoying each other’s company.

Getting back to camp we go through the tourist leaflets Steve has collected and decide on a bus tour of cemeteries for Thursday.

Day 23 – Thursday 28 August

We have to be at a The British Grenadier Bookshop by 9:30ish to catch the 10am Salient Ypres Tour so it’s a speedy get up and breakfast.  We leave the caravan in the campsite car park, so we don’t have to tow it around Ypres and set off pretty damned quick.  We park close enough but find out not only is the tour four hours, 10am until 2pm, but Stella is unable to join us.  The Bookstore owner asks us if Stella is well behaved.  Of course we respond yet.  He asks if he takes care of her will she bark.  Of course not we replied. He said, in that case Stella could stay behind with him.

The tour is in two minibuses, 16 of us in total.  The guide is also the driver in our minibus.  The weather was dodgy but didn’t rain.  We arrive at the first Cemetery and he begins with an overview of the First World War, how it started, who started it, what was the purpose and many other facts.  Although his was a local of Ypres, his English was superb and his way of getting facts over, easy to listen to. I wasn’t comfortable taking photos of Cemeteries or grave head stones so I left my camera in the bus.  I was doing fine at the first cemetery until he pointed out a Jewish headstone with the star of David carved on it.  Steve asked me to look over and I saw that the top of it was completely covered with visitors’ stones.  The sight of all the pebbles hit a nerve and I could feel tears swelling up which I couldn’t control.  Loads of thoughts fought their way into my head.  The number of Jewish visitors who placed the pebbles.  Jews sticking together.  Was there a pebble on my Dad’s grave.  What this Jewish solder a good person.  Did he deserve the attention.  How can people be so kind to others they’ve never met.    Steve asked if I was alright and I asked to be left alone.  We boarded the bus for the next cemetery and I keep my head turned towards the window watching the scenery go by trying to compose myself.  It was have taken about 20 minutes and then I was back to normal.

Between cemeteries we visited a farm.  It was the first time I’d ever seen a refrigerated vending machine for fresh strawberries.  The Guide Lucas bought a punnet which we shared.  He then took us into one of the farm’s outbuildings which housed a car.  I thought maybe someone was trying to sell the car but the purpose was to look at dug up items on a table.  Although WW1 was 100 years ago, the local farmers and construction workers till dig up rusted pieces of armoury.  In front of us where remains of English and German rifles, unexploded grenades and mortar shells.  Lucas, tossing one of the grenades in his hand told us this was normal.  There was a 1 day (24 hour), 1 week and 1 month code for dug up items.  Gas was within 24 hours, grenades and things that might go off a week, and anything else a month.  The process was to call them into the local Army letting them know the reference number of the lamppost they had been stored against.  Apparently there is a deep crater somewhere with two years’ worth of dangerous unexploded gas canisters as the equipment to dispose of them safely is out of action.  It’s too expensive to repair and even more expensive to replace. 

We didn’t stop for lunch and the 4 hours, which included walking through original trenches, almost flew by.  They certainly didn’t drag.

Returning to Ypres it began to rain and on went our anoraks.  When we got to the Bookstore, we found out that Stella didn’t like being left in the garden.  She barked to come in.  And when she came into the book store whined until we got back.  It was so kind of the store owner Steve to do this for us otherwise we would not have been able to take the tour.  Full of thought we walked through the rain to the car and made our way back to camp to leave for Calais, only an hour or so away.

Returning to the campsite we hook up the caravan and can’t stop for lunch as the menu is limited to sandwich and we’d rather have a more memorable final holiday meal.

It’s our intention to find a little café in a square but instead we find a Patisserie and stuff ourselves with Pizza and pastries.  Yum, yum.

We eventually arrive at Calais an hour early and have to come out, after checking in, and queue up again.  We’re both taking great care if we leave the car and/or caravan that they are both locked.  We don’t want any unwelcome stowaways.

Eventually we are on the ferry and on our way back home – reminiscing all the way.

When we arrive at 8 Salamanca we abandon the car and caravan in the driveway and head for our own double bed with fresh clean linen.  Bliss

Days 24-26 – Friday 29 – Sunday 26 August

We are back homeand it’s good to be back.  The children can’t wait to see their Dad and George is over early Friday morning.  We collect Lydia later in the afternoon and all go out for an Indian that evening.  Steve had been craving one for weeks.  Steve and his children catch up and it’s lovely to watch and be a part of.

Caravan and car emptied, everything washed from a plate to laundry and all dried and put away by the end of Saturday.  Lawns mown and lots and lots of pottering.  Sunday is bliss.  All our chores are done, without rushing. 

I’m not sure whether or not I’m going to write my journal as I didn’t want to write anything negative.  By writing it I realise a few things about myself. I need my me space and I also need loo seats.  I absolutely adore my man and can’t imagine life without him.  Next time, if I’m lucky enough to be invited on another Caravan holiday we’ll choose the campsites more carefully and maybe spend more time at each one exploring the areas around them.

It’s been great getting my thoughts and experiences on paper and sharing each with my man Steve.  What a lucky happy bunny I am.

To be continued – – – – – –