France 2003

This trip has been brought forward by two weeks (P&O made a small charge for the change) as our Daughter Nicole is due to have twins in August and Dot doesn't want to be away too close to the time.

Arrive in Rotterdam and wait in the queue for passport control, lots of one-make two-seater sports cars around us (must be on way to or from a rally). After quite a long wait, watching people fumbling with passports and getting in and out of cars and vans (the majority have the steering wheel on the wrong side to reach the official easily) we eventually get to our turn, only to be waved strait through with out checking and with some urgency, as if it was our fault there are queues.

We headed immediately for a petrol station for cheap diesel, we find one just along from the port and pull onto the slip road. Big mistake.

There is some hold up at the lorry part of the filling station and they are blocking the slip road, this is to cost us about half an hour. We pass the time watching the two-seaters waving and honking at the others two-seaters stuck on the slip road with us. After a while the sports car drivers (as you would probably expect from them), begin to get very inpatient and eventually one of them starts to ask the lorry drivers if they can pullover on to the tiny strip of grass between the slip road and a drop, so that they can squeeze through. By this time, there is only one lorry and me still in their way. The lorry edges over and the sports cat driver approaches me, it is at this point I realise that if I pull over for them, I will have then to wait for all of them to fill up before I can get in. I point this out to the sports car driver who informs me that I should fill up with the lorries and not get in their way. I let two or three of them through and then pull over to get passed the lorry myself as by this time, it has edged forward slightly leaving just enough room for me to squeeze through. Triumphantly I pull up at the wrong pump (gas instead of gasoile) and have to wait for the motorcycle behind me to fill up and move on, so that I can reveres to the diesel pump.

Tank full of diesel and we are on our way, laptop on with our route to Nancy mapped out using AutoRoute, heading for Belgium on the A15/A16. As we enter Belgium this changes to the A1, on passed Antwerp to Brussels and onto the A4 to Luxemburg, on through Luxemburg on the A6/A3 and into France on the A31 for the rest of the days journey. This journey is punctuated by multiple stops to check the directions.

We had studied and planed the route in great detail but I am never totally sure that we are not going to get lost (it’s a fault with me), so at every intersection I need reassurance that we are still on the right road and not heading in the totally wrong direction (the truth is I often get quite panicky).

We drive straight to the site in Nancy without one wrong turn (if fact we do not take a serious wrong turn until the very last day, on our way back to the ferry we get on the wrong road in Antwerp, and I blame the Dutch motorway signs for that one).

The site is on the outskirts of Nancy close to the horseracing track, about 4km from the centre. Reception is manned by a Brit, our conversation goes something like this: -

“you last email to me asked for my details, so that you could send me one, I replied with them but never I never received conformation, maybe you never got the email”

We had only booked the first two sites, as we where not sure how busy it was going to be, I had also given up trying to prebook sites after the first two, for two reasons, we did not want to be to rigid with our plans and my experience booking the second site.

On the Internet, there are two contacts for the site in Dijon, a direct phone No and an email address for the tourist office. I choose the coward’s way and emailed, their reply advises me the ring the sire direct and includes the phone number, so I bite the bullet and phone.

I email the tourist office again, explain that I have phoned but the recipient could not understand me and apologised for not being able to speak French, I also included all of my details and requirements. I receive a reply from the tourist office saying that they phoned the site and booked for me, it some times pays to grovel.

Anyway this place has plenty of room, so we check in for three nights and set of round the one-way system, to pick a site.

When I return to reception to let them know what site we are on and to get a pass for the barrier, our second conversation goes something like this: -

“is there a bar, café, or restaurant on site”? (I ask this as we are in the middle of nowhere),

“that’s easy, they go from the end of the drive, its 1.50€ each way, you get the tickets here ---

He does however, go on to explain, that not all of the drivers will join the strike and after contacting the bus company in the morning, he will have a makeshift timetable.

We are tired after the long journey and decide to have a quiet night, something to eat and drink and then early night.

After eating I feel more awake and decide to set up the satellite, I use my compass and decide I might just be able to get a signal over the trees, It is at this point I discover I have forgotten the remote control for the decoder. I decide that I should still be able to get it to work, so set it up anyway, wrong, not the slightest signal, so I give up and watch a DVD on the laptop instead.

Over to reception on my bike first thing (about 10.00) to find out about the busses, reception is now manned by a French girl, she has times for the morning but not the afternoon. I think it might be better to leave our trip into town until tomorrow, so I ask where the nearest supermarket is, its about two kilometres to the left in the next village.

We get the van packed up ready to move again and set off for provisions but first we need more diesel. According to the AutoRoute, there two filling stations close by, so we set off for the closest. We never did find it, we do a U turn and head for the other one, which is exactly where it should be. The supermarket is easier to find but by this time, it’s closed for the afternoon break, we head back to the campsite for lunch (good job we brought some food with us). Dot can have a drink with her lunch but I have to wait until after we have been back to the shop.

As we eat we notice that the grass is being cut and wonder how the driver will cope with the electric hook-up cables that crisscross in the long grass between the central electricity point and the numerous vans. Then there is this strange noise, how can I best describe it? It was like the noise a motor mower would make, if cut through, chopped up, then got coiled up and jammed with an electric cable. He has mangled the electric cable leading to a caravan opposite ours, luckily for the driver the owners are out for the day. The driver tried to pull the cable out from under the mower, he then turned the mower over and with his feet pushing on the under side he pulled and pulled but to no avail. He then had a bright idea, and went over and unplugged the cable from the electricity supply and then started unwinding the cable from the blades. Eventually he got it all unravelled, collected all of the chopped up bits and binned them, disconnected the remaining cable from the van, remade the chopped off end and reconnected everything as if nothing had happened. He then gives up cutting for the day and heads off. When the owners of the van return they will be none the wiser, at most they may think there has been a power cut, until the next time they are a long way from the electrical points, their cable must be at least half the length that it used to be.

For more entertainment, as we hang around waiting for the shop to reopen, we sit and watch the afternoon arrivals, mainly Dutch (most have probably just done the same trip as we did yesterday), anyway they are driving around looking for a plot that suits them. Did I mention that there was a one-way system? Well it doesn’t look like it was mentioned to the Dutch. The pitch two on from ours, is the smallest plot on the site, this plot also has a rather large tree in the middle of it, so when the largest caravan arrives, imagine our surprise when it heads straight for it. When the caravan is reversed in right up to the tree, it is still halfway across the road, it takes about thirty minutes before they realise it will never fit and move on to the next plot, which by the way, is about the biggest pitch on the site.

We leave the table and chairs out, disconnect the electricity and set off back to the shop, as we start to look around, we decide we are not in a shopping mood, which is very unusual for us, we shop, that’s what we do. I think we must have been sat in the sun too long, anyway we get a pizza for tea and some quality beer, we also splash out €1.00 on a bottle of wine.

Over to reception again to get the bus times, the nice French girl informs me that the one day strike is still on but has the time for the morning again. She writes them down for me, gives me a street map of the town centre and I set off back for breakfast and some decision making.

We decide to go into town anyway and if we can’t get a bus back we can always get a taxi for about €15 (I had asked, this is ten times the bus fare). There’s a bus at 11:10 so at about 10:45 we set off to reception to purchase our tickets, then on to the bus stop with plenty of time to spare. With the strike on we are not sure how precise the bus times will be but there are two other couples waiting (both are Dutch I think), we all say hello, as campers do, and I mention that we still have ten minutes before the bus is due. “Did you get the times from reception” I ask “no need the busses are every ten minutes” answers one of the men. I inform them that the strike is still on and remark that it’s odd that the girl didn’t mention it when they bought their tickets, “tickets?” asks the second man, “yes you need to have them before you get on the bus” I tell him, “I'll be back” he says and runs off towards reception. He comes jogging back with plenty of time to spare and the bus arrives about two minutes late, we all board and have to run our tickets through a card reader.

I am no expert on busses, in fact I have used the busses at home only two or three times over he last thirty years. Once I got my first motor vehicle (a motorcycle) I never felt the need to use public transport again. I have been on many more busses abroad over this period, even travelling abroad on busses but even with a strike on this seemed to me to be a very good service. The bus was clean and comfortable although a bit too hot, a scrolling LED display at the front of the bus gave passengers information on final destination and what the next stop was to be. We where going all the way to the terminus but if we had needed to get off at an earlier stop this would have saved us having to ask a drive (who would usually have no idea what we where on about) to let us know when to get off.

On arrival we have a quick look round to see where we get the bus back, there is a large departures board, displaying what busses are going out in the next hour and from which bus stop they are leaving, so happy we can fine a bus back we set off for the shops. The girl on reception has drawn a red line on the map, showing the way from the bus station to the main square, another quick look round to get our bearings and we head off along the red line. Map reading is something I have no problems with so we also have no worries about finding our way back to the bus station, as we leave the bus station, I spot the other two couples still wandering around the bus station checking for the place to get the bus back.

Our third day and we are eventually in France, and not that small part of England that is our van. Our worries are now that the shops will shut for the afternoon as soon as we start looking around. These worries are unfounded, as most stop open all day, we buy a few things we need, then make our way to the main square the Place Stanislas, it seems like we have been there longer but its still only midday. Now if either of us knew anything about architecture I could now make all sorts of smart comments about this fine square but we don’t, so suffice it to say that it is big and looks very nice, in the brochures we have picked up it looks like it is even better at night.

At the far side of the square Dot spots en petit train touristique the little tourist train, we have a brochure on the train and had though we might do a tour on it. We wander over and see that the tour started at 12:00, it is now 12:15 and the train has gone nowhere, on a small plaque is the information that a minimum of eight persons are required for each tour. The next tour is 14:00, we will come back and try then.

At the end of one of the roads exiting the square is what looks like a Roman arch, so we wander off to have a look. As we leave the square there is a statue of, I think, the architect “well done” I say to him and then to Dot “it’s getting a bit hot Dot, lets get a drink”. At a nearby tobacco stand we get a bottle of water and continue on towards the arch. Well it could be Roman, then again maybe not but over the road is a port on the canal, a good opportunity to have a sit down as the heat is getting to us (this is the year of the heat wave in France). There is a floating restaurant/bar but it doesn’t look like the type of place to just get a drink and have a sit (It probably was but my biggest fear in life is, looking silly in front of strangers, I absolutely hate being embarrassed, so I steer clear of opportunities to show myself up, so we didn’t even ask. This part of me has become quite a lot more relaxed over the last few years. Why be bothered what strangers think when I don’t care if friends and family think I’m an idiot, I know its only a confidence thing but knowing what the problem is doesn’t always cure it). So we just sit in the shade by the canal, finish our water and decide to head back towards the shops to get a sandwich.

The first bar we pass is full of people eating and drinking and looking like they are having a good time but it also looks a bit rough, so we head on under another arch. The next bar has two seats available on the street. Dot claims the seats and I head in to the bar,

I wait for the drinks but am shooed outside to my seat. The drinks are delivered and are gorgeous, we are thirsty though, I get Dot to look at the bill, as this is our first drink in a French bar for about ten years and it was relatively expensive last time. €4.40 about £3.25 quite a lot for two halves, still, it was good, its very hot, we have another one each and watch the people of Nancy get on with their lives.

Food, we still hadn’t had any food, Dot fancies a quiche from the patisserie opposite the bar, we have been watch people coming out with them for some time now. There is nothing in there that I like the look of, so with Dot armed now with a quiche we go looking for something for me. By this time its 13:45 so as we search we head back towards the little train, as we pass a sandwich shop I spot a chicken and salad baguette, that sounds good, so I get one.

We arrive back in the square and at the train with five minutes to spare, the train driver is lent against a tree smoking a cigarette and trying to stay cool but not succeeding as it is even hotter by now. I ask him if he speaks English, “no” is his answer, “is the train running” I ask “yes” he says, “do I pay you” and I offer him money, “later” is his reply. We wait until about 14:10 but nobody else shows up and the driver shrugs at us, lights a cigarette and starts to put things away, so we wander off. I thought I had spotted an old arch in the opposite direction to the one we first went to look at, so we set off out of the square in that direction. This is a bigger arch but on a very busy road, on the other side of the arch is a bar, we sit at table where we can watch a very busy road intersection and order two beers.

Some of the striking bus workers come passed, blowing whistles and one has a flare, there is red smoke going everywhere (not a good thing for a busy intersection), they also look like they have been drinking (they all look a bit too happy for people on strike). The man with the flare decides that his flare is on its way out and dumps it on the pavement where immediately children start to gather expectantly, so the flare man has to hang about until it goes out, witch is a lot longer than he thought it was going to be. The last we saw of him, he was striding off down the road while talking on his mobile, presumably trying to fine out where the others had gone when he was preoccupied guarding his fading flare.

The bus station was just round the corner from the bar, so we walked over to see what was happening with the busses, there was one due to leave that passed the campsite in five minutes, we decided that we had seen enough for today and got that bus back.

Small flying insects where being a bit of a problem so we had bought some citronella candles in town toady, we lit two up, had our tea, and settled down to watch another DVD, outside with a couple of beers before another early night but a shower forced us inside, luckily most of the rain on this holiday would fall during the night.

Up early, as we are off to Dijon, this should be simple, back on to the A31 and stay on it all the way, although we will have to go through the city. I decide we will turn off the A31 onto the N74 to enter Dijon from the north onto the ring road west, the A31 is a toll road so this should also save us some money anyway.

We can’t find anywhere to empty the dirty water from the van and it’s about full (it holds about 80 litres this is 0.8 tonne, a bit heavy), the toilet is also full and the clean water tank is about empty.

The drive to Dijon is done at a leisurely pace there is no rush after all, we exit the A31 and pay the €14 toll, the N74 is a long straight road and again is done at a leisurely pace. As the road enters the city, it gets a bit mad but we have the directions and just follow the signs for the A38, this will take us very close to the campsite, where there should be campsite signs. The caravan club book directions mentions going under a 3.0 meter bridge, to access the site, the van is 3.07 meters. Just before the campsite we come across the campsite signposts, we follow these and turn the corner to be confronted by the bridge. There is no height sign but it looks very low, we stop. Dot gets out to watch as I edge forward, she tells me that it looks higher on the right, the side we are on, so I keep going, the van scrapes through, luckily though not literally.

The campsite is just on the other side of the bridge, we pull up in the parking space for new arrivals and walk over to reception, witch is closed for the afternoon break. It’s 12:15 and reception does not reopen until 14:30, we use the time to our best advantage. First we have a walk around the site and pick out a pitch. Next, as there is a motorhome service point next to where we are parked, we empty all of our dirty water, including the toilet and fill up with fresh water. After that we brew up and have lunch, just as we are finishing lunch a German caravan and a Dutch motorhome turn up, the time now about 13:45. The German walks over to reception, reads the closed for lunch notice on the door and starts ringing the doorbell. Now the sign on the doorbell states that it is for use only in an emergence, obviously him getting on the site is an emergency, as the warden comes out and opens the office for him. In my humble opinion the reason the German thinks he can do this is, that it works, if it didn’t he wouldn’t do it would he? My point is don’t put out closed signs, if your not closed as soon as some impatient person starts to bother you. Anyway I jump out of the van and get behind him in the queue, this seems to upset the Dutch lady who had started heading towards reception a soon as the German got in but she wasn’t as nippy as me.

Now this warden is the one that, on the phone said the office was closed, so the tourist office had booked for me, I thought here goes “sorry sir we only have this small, dark, wet, plot behind the toilets” but I was wrong he and his wife (who could speak English) were friendly and I got the pitch Dot and I had picked out earlier. When I pull up on our pitch and stop the van, Dot hands me a cup of tea, the one I been drinking when the German showed up and it is still warm.

As it was still only early in the afternoon we decided to walk into town, about 1.5 kilometres. We ask in reception for a map and the wardens wife suggests walking by the river, rather than the road, she draws a red line on the map for us to follow (how did she know we follow red lines?). The walk by the river is quite nice but soon we have to head into town, through a rather dull high-rise area, then under the railway, on in to the older part of town. Now this is what we came to see lots of old buildings with wooden beams and old ornate churches.

We wander round the shops for a while and then stop to have a beer (it is very hot again, this is becoming a wonderful excuse), Dot who works in a chemist shop (so would notice these things), points out the large number of pharmacies (the shops with green flashing crosses outside). We continue our walk and Dot is right, there are pharmacies everywhere, why would you need this many, are the French hypochondriacs?

As we approach one of the main squares, there are quite a lot of police about, then there is a lot of noise and smoke, then a lot of people marching. It is a march by striking workers, protesting about changes to their pensions, they have flags, whistles, megaphones and the obligatory red flares, hence the smoke. It is while avoiding this demonstration we find a church whose façade is covered in row after row of ornate gargoyles and a mustard shop that is selling wine and mustard at prices only the Americans could afford. During the rest of the afternoon, these marchers will suddenly appear from side streets and around corners wherever we are handing out leaflets as they go. Later in the afternoon, a rather tired looking but happy man hands some of the leaflets to us, we try to explain that we can’t read them, but he doesn’t care, he just wants rid of them. By early evening the marchers must have been worn-out but eventually we either lost them or they packed up and went home and we went for another drink. The bar/restaurants is one of the many that surround what seem to be the market hall, an impressive old iron and glass building that looks English and Victorian.

We set off back to the campsite via the road route and find a part of the place we had not yet managed to stumble across but it can wait for another day. The road route is quicker but the traffic is very busy, we pass back under the rail lines and alongside the train station, where a TGV train is parked up. The road back is long and straight so it can give the impression that its is further than the river walk, you don’t seem to be getting any closer to your goal and we are also carrying too much shopping.

The heavy shopping supplies us with pizza for super, Dot with a couple of Daiquiris and me with some Leffe Triple, so in my opinion it was worth it. What we didn’t have was ice, the ice cube trays are nowhere to be found (bit like the satellite remote), so we fill a plastic food container with half an inch of water and bung it in the freezer compartment.

The campsite is called Camp Municipal du Lac, so after breakfast, I get on my bike and go looking for du Lac, the lake. The lake is actually called Lac Chanoine Kir and is on the river Ouche (sounds painful). We have already decided that today we will go for a walk and maybe have a picnic, so walking around a lake seems like a good idea. I know that the lake is to the right under the low bridge, so I set off along the cycle path in that direction, the path follows the river, a good sign when looking for a lake and after about 300 meters there is a weir or sluice with bridge over the river. I ride on to the bridge and the lake comes into view, its not very large so it looks perfect for walking round. I continue on about a quarter of the way round the lake though a park, before heading back to get Dot but also to have another cup of tea before we set off for our walk. The opposite side of the lake is flanked by high cliffs, with the main road and railway at their foot. There is a petrol station on the road and I make a mental note of it, as this is the road we will be leaving by when we move on the day after tomorrow.

We decide not to bother taking a picnic, we will get something while we are out if we need to. We elect to walk round the lake clockwise, the same way I went on the bike earlier. It is hot but we have drinks with us, we also have our books, so we can have a sit and read. Along with the drinks and books we also have the camera, suntan lotion and compact folding umbrella, this makes the bag rather heavy but I could do with the exercise. The park is filling up by this time, children are playing in a playground, people are walking, running, cycling, walking dogs, some are having picnics and on the cliff side of the lake people are swimming from a small beach. We find a nice seat overlooking the lake but it soon gets too hot to just sit so we decide to walk on, which is cooler.

Looking at our street map of Dijon to see if there is a bridge over the river at the far end of the lake, so that we can get all the way round, Dot points out that we are actually walking parallel and close to a canal. We take a left turn and after about 40 meters and behind a line of trees, there is the canal. The water in the canal is bit of an unusual light blue but not unattractive though, it also doesn’t look like it is used very often. Wrong, this is the famous 242km Canal de Bourgogne, linking the Soana, Loire and Rhone rivers, the next day we see many boats heading up and down the canal but it looked deserted during today’s walk. There is a bridge and we are soon at the very top end of the lake deciding what to do next. We can see two places on the way back down the other side, perhaps one will be selling food and or drink, so off we go. The first is a discothèque, so we walk on, the next is a bar, we head in and get a seat facing the lake under a sunshade. We get two beers, we can smell food but can’t see anyone eating, there is no sign of a menu either and nether Dot or I are willing to ask, anyway, we are not that hungry yet.

The decision is made to finish the circumnavigation of the lake and then look for food. The noise from the road and rail traffic is a bit excessive at this side of the lake but we live quite close to a noisy main road and so are not that bothered by the racket. A jogger glides passed us but then stops under a tree she does not seem to be tired as we walk passed her but as I look back, in the distance is a rather large girl plodding along towards us. Now the reason I mention all this is, that as soon as the large girl caches up with her friend, the first girl sets off and jogs away from her again, I think it was some sort of torture. I was also rather surprised when the large girl managed to pass us before we got back to the beginning of our walk as I was convinced we were walking faster than she was jogging.

By this time we are passing the petrol station I mentioned earlier and pop in to see what they have on offer food wise. We get two chicken salad baguettes and two large cans of beer. Next to the petrol station is a small restaurant with what looks like a very good menu at very reasonable prices but its too late now, we’ve already got food, never mind. We go back over the bridge to the park side of the lake and eat at one of the several picnic tables, the baguettes are reasonable not as good as the one I had yesterday but what do you expect from a petrol station? Next we just sit by the lake, soak up some sun, read our books and drink our beers. I do try to get a photo of the TGV going by but have no luck.

We need some things from a supermarket, so before breakfast I get on my bike and go and look for one, I head left out of the campsite, but this time instead of heading into town, I crossed over the river, over the canal and head down the cycle track following the route of the canal. The cycle tracks in Dijon are excellent, and because I'm following the canal it is also very flat. On our street map there is a port de canal, so I reckon there will be shops to serve this port. I'm not wrong, there are shops and a supermarket, although I have money and a bag, I have not brought a lock for the bike, so all I get is a baguette and a small bottle of water, I think this is safe, as I can see the bike through the patisserie window.

Picnic packed we set off for a walk along the canal, it is hot again but we soon get to the port and the shops. Rather than shopping, we continue to walk along the canal but come to a dead end, the path runs out on the side we're on, we should have crossed over on to the other side. We head back to the port to have our sandwiches, a group of people ride past us and all greet us with bonjour, bonjour we reply but notice that they stop at a canal barge registered in New Zealand.

A man is cleaning his canal boat with a jet washer, next to the first seat we pick so we have to move as we keep getting wet. Just along the canal from where we do sit to eat, something is going on, a few people are gathered round looking at something, it's a young Heron that seems to be lost but the parents are close by.

After our sandwiches we decide to read for a bit in the sun, I notice the New Zealanders coming towards us, bonjour they all say again, good afternoon we reply, this seems to throw them for a bit and they take a long look back as they ride off. They soon reappear and one explains that the shop they had gone to wasn't open yet, strange as all of shops we had seen were all in the other direction anyway. After a walk all the way round the port, we decide it is time to go back to get ready for a night out but first we need to go to the supermarket.

When we got out of the supermarket it had started to rain, as we waited for the rain to stop under the supermarket entrance, Dot took the opportunity to repack our bags, we had bought far too much to carry. By now the rain was horrendous, what we call cloudburst at home, it was bouncing and we had not bother to bring your waterproofs just a small umbrella. The rain eased to a trickle, so we decided to make a move, Dot suggested we go to a bar and wait for it to stop but I foolishly said "lets just get another one of those nice baguettes from that shop I used this morning, it's only on the corner". Well the heavens opened up again, and we were in a bread shop and not a bar, tragedy, we had to stand under a small ledge outside the shop and wait. Every time one of us moved the automatic doors would open and the shop assistant would appear from the back of the shop to see who had come in. This must have gone on for about 20 minutes but we had entertainment, the fire brigade rescue were rushing about and the young girl who was operating the lock gates was getting very, very, wet. It was about this time that a gentleman who had been sat in a parked car (I had assumed he was waiting for someone or for the rain to stop) came over and asked me if the shop was open, when I answered yes he gave me a strange look and he rushed into the shop. He emerged almost immediately carrying several pizzas, jumped in his car and shot off, he must had assumed that, as we where waiting outside the shop must be closed.

That night we walked into town to get something to eat, the place was buzzing, all the bars were full, so we decided to eat first and then go for a drink. After eating we return to the bars to find them all empty, with staff clearing tables and chairs from the outsides. We find a place with people still drinking, so we sit down and order two beers, the beers are gorgeous, I look at Dot and she knows what I am thinking, these are not going to be cheep. They where not cheep but they where worth it, our first encounter with Grimbergen, I will be buying plenty of that to take home, I know it will be much more economical in the supermarkets. The restaurant we are drinking outside is in a small square with a fountain in the middle, around which people are sat, one of them looks like a tramp, a drunk tramp. The drunk seems to be harmless, that is until the man at the table in front of us starts calling him, he is showing off to his girlfriend, he keeps shouting to him, then, when the drunk looks around the idiot looks away. Obviously the rest of us are looking though, luckily the drunk doesn’t come over and eventually falls asleep, spoiling the idiot’s fun, I hope the girl was really impressed and dumps him.

On our way back to the campsite the place is beginning to liven up again but we have an early start tomorrow.

We had decided to change our plans and go to an out of town campsite on a lake, we had not prebooked any more sites, the rest of the holiday had always been open to change. First thing we do is go to the motorhome service point to fill up with fresh water and dump the dirty water and toilet. Then it was off the petrol station to top up with diesel.

For the first part of the journey the road follows the canal and we spot the New Zealanders heading in the same direction as us, only they are travelling at a much more leisurely pace. We are not is a rush either as the next site is only about half an hours drive, as usual I have plotted out the new route on the laptop and soon we reach the exit. Exit 25 on the A38, only there seems to be two exit 25s and we have taken the wrong one, the route should have been easy from the right exit 25, take a left off the motorway, then after a couple kilometres on straight road, turn left again and follow the road to the site. Anyway, we continue along this country road, we take the first left as this looks more like a main road, it isn’t, eventually we turn back towards the motorway at a T-junction, on to what is a better road. Its only about one kilometre back to the motorway and the right exit 25, where there is a signpost showing the way to the campsite as back down the road we have just come along. However now we know where we are, we decide we will continue the way we had planed, as the roads are straighter but first, we will double back to a supermarket that have just passed.

Restocked we arrive at the site and are told to pick a pitch and report back with our choice. The site is made up of two separate fields, one next to reception with the bar and restaurant and with a lake view the other has a pool but no lake view (since we where there the site has had a lot of work done and now has a new bar restaurant complex right on the lake). We choose one facing the lake, the only slight problem is it is a very busy weekend and several motorhomes are wild camping on the road between us and the lake (but, I say to Dot "they will all be gone by tomorrow night", wrong, it's a bank holiday weekend we didn't know about, so its the day after before it quietens back down to normal). The upside to all this is, that the lake is full of small sailing boats, with several races over the weekend, something to watch while sitting in the sun.

Today we decide to continue with our theme of walking round lakes and set off in a clockwise direction so as to finish the walk at the bar. A very hot day, we did take drinks with us so we just take our time and enjoy the walk and views. The rest of the day is spent chilling out, reading, eating with the odd beer, things you are supposed to do on a relaxing holiday. My flip-flops did fall to bits on the way back from the showers, this was about the most excitement that day.

First thing I get on the bike and ride to the village to see if it is worth having a walk there and also to check to see if it is safe to walk. Its three miles to the village, there are some grass verges to walk on and the road isn't very busy anyway. Now this is another of my may faults, I can not ride a bike slowly, I have to make it go as fast as I can but being very very unfit, I am partially dead after the six mile ride. In fact I think I am having a hart attack and it worries the hell out of me, I have to sit outside the site until I calm down before I let Dot see me (we now have a 100cc scooter for that sort of thing).

We do walk to the village and then along the Canal de Bourgogne, we actually walk about two and a half miles along the canal to the village of Créancey, before we realise that means we have five and a half miles to walk back the the site. Later, on the map I find a road back to the site that would have only been about three miles, but we hadn't planed to walk along the cannel in the first place, so we hadn't bothered checking the map before we set off, in fact we only intended to walk a couple of hundred yards to see what was round the bend. On the way back we got a drink at the small shop in the village and had a sit and rest by the lock gates. The barge with the New Zealand flag was in the small marina there.

That night we where too tired to cook so we go to the site restaurant for the local speciality, which not surprisingly, as we are in Burgundy, was Boeuf Bourguignon, very nice.

Today England are playing Slovakia in a Euro 2004 qualifier in Middlesbrough, about seven miles from our house and as far as I know England have never played there before, anyway we are a lot further away now. As I can not get the satellite to work, I ask at the bar to see if they can get the match on there TV, the answer is don't think so, so probably not. So I get on my bike and have a look in the next field, I should be able to get a satellite single from there, on the way back the rear wheel comes loose and I have to push the bike back. So we move pitch but I still get nothing. I Dutch guy with a caravan is also trying to get a signal also with no luck so again I give up and we go to the pool.

The pool is quite good and we laze in and around it for the rest of the afternoon.

Later that afternoon the Dutch guy comes down to see me, he has been out and bought a huge length of cable that stretches from his van to where we are, about 75 feet. he sets his dish up next to my van and gets a signal, up at his van. So I set ours up again and point in the same direction as him and guess what, nothing. We try his receiver with my dish, perfect, we try his dish and my receiver, nothing, in fact we try every combination and each time its my receiver that doesn't work. Unfortunately we can not get the match on his receiver, so I ride over to the bar and they can't either, they are watching France, or someone like that.

We end up sat outside the Dutch couple's caravan, having a few drinks, listening to the match on their radio and getting text messages from home. The Dutch guy (sorry I can't remember his name) is the retired editor of a magazine about beers and he is drinking wine, he does gives me a couple of good beers though and lots of info on Dutch and Belgian beers.

When we get back home I get a new receiver and have had no trouble with the satellite since then, I also exchanged the laptop TV receiver for a cheaper one that also worked better.

It's only a short drive to our next stop in Auxerre, about seventy miles, just about all via the A6 motorway. We get our toll ticket and drive to our exit but there, the toll booths are unmanned and the barriers are up, so we drive straight through (we later discover that the booth operators are on strike, probably pensions).

The Municipal site in Auxerre, is on the opposite side of the road to the football stadium, so its fairly easy to find. Part of the site is prone to flooding and we where advised to use plots away from this area, obviously we did but others just ignored the advice.

Before we choose a plot, we find the motorhome service point and empty dirty water and replenish with fresh. This done we find a large plot equal distance from the toilet blocks, one of which is far superior to the other but sometimes busy so its nice to have the other one close as well.

I go back to reception, to let them know what plot we are on and am told, that someone will be over shortly to connect the electrics. Eventually a girl ambles over and walks over to an eclectic hook-up box miles away. I need both cables I have with me, a new one that's about 25 meters and the 15 meters continental one I got with the van is Spain. The girl is not happy with the continental connection on my cable and a French guy from the van closest to the electrical box, offers assistance. We go back to me van to my electrical gadgets, adaptors and connections box and find a 2 meter continental extension cable that the girl approves of. So I now have a 2 meter continental extension cable from the box to a 15 meters continental hook-up to a 25 meters normal hook-up (normal for us anyway) and it still only just reaches the back of the van. The French guy tells me, in French that I should put un sac on the exposed extension cable connection, I was being a bit thick and had to ask Dot what un sac was, oh silly me, put a bag over it, to stop water ingress, it was, right next to a tap.

Walking back towards town, if you take the first right turn at the traffic lights, then down by the side of the stadium, you come to the river and swimming pool complex. The route to town this way is a lot more pleasant this way, walking along the river Yonne, it may be slightly longer but it's much more enjoyable, with magnificent views on the churches. We did walk past the main road up in to the centre, as we where taking in the river but this did get us slightly lost when we did head towards the main shopping area. By that time we were very hot and thirsty, so when we did come to a smell bar we popped in for a drink and sat outside. After a while the barman comes out and asks if we are parked along this road, as the traffic warden is on the way, I think this is very thoughtful of him. So as a thank you I order more beer.

In the bar I notice a poster for a rugby tens competition in two days time, I know sevens but have never seen tens. I ask the barman where the rugby ground is and it is close to the camp site, so I decide we will stop for an extra night and pop along to see what it is like.

The centre is quite like Dijon, with plenty of very old wooden buildings and of course lots of modern shops. Walked back to the site by the road way and spotted a large supermarket that we will use on the way out moving on to our next stop.

When out on the bike to scout along the river in the opposite direction to the city but there wasn't much to see, so we walked back the way we had walked the day before. Today we follow the map better and have a good look round, we have been given town maps at all of the sites and they are invaluable, some times you do have to ask for them though.

We follow the river route back but walk through the park and then stop a the swimming pool bar for a drink. Dot has a Hoegaarden and I have a Best Scotch Dot's drink comes in a proper Hoegaarden glass and my Best Scotch comes in a thistle shaped glass, I thought this only happened in Belgium.

That night we notice a frail, oldish looking lady wandering round the site, she is not very steady on her feet but is moving fairly fast. Eventually a French girl (one from the caravan where the young man helped me with the electrics) helps this lady back to her caravan. About ten minutes later, she is off to the toilet block but when she comes out, she heads off determinedly as if she knows where she is going, away from her van. She is rescued again by the French girl, I assumed that she must have Alzheimer's and that her carer has gone off somewhere. About ten minutes later, this all happens over again, then eventually, she just sits on the floor outside the toilets and weeps. She is rescued on last time, taken back to her van and is not seen again that night.

First thing after breakfast (which isn't very early) I ride along to the rugby ground to see of I can find out what time the tournament starts. I ask and from the answers I get in French I think its 17:00 and there was something about an English player. I thought it would be earlier but it gives us the afternoon free to go for a walk.

Back at the site, I notice the lady from the night before, she is with her husband and they have the caravan hooked up ready to go. Unbelievably she is driving, she must have just been very, very drunk last night and he must have been unconscious, embarrassingly they are British. What is more unbelievable is that she has the map out and is plotting the route, she couldn't find her way across a field last night. I wonder if they have been driving about France aimlessly for years trying to get home.

About 16:00 we make our way along to the ground, on the way drivers of passing cars are waving to us, and a passing scooter pips his horn and shouts something. When we get in the ground, I notice that the Auxerre rugby shirt is very similar the the 2001 Lions shirt I am wearing, so I assume the waving and piping, was because they thought I was a fellow Auxerre supporter and you know what, I am.

We take a seat in the small stand opposite the main stand, three young lads come over to us and try to sell us what look like small envelopes. "Do any of you speak any English" I ask, this causes some panic between them, until as usual one says "a little". "What are they" I ask, they can't explain (or at least can't make me understand), but the envelopes and tickets in them, seem to have something to do with a kiosk next to the main stand. we buy some anyway.

Part way through the first game we walk over to the main stand and discover that the envelopes are a sort of tombola, with small prizes, like packs of playing cards. When people find out we are English we are treated like old friends, although trying to get me to eat snails makes me wonder. During Auxerre's first game, one of their players is brought over and introduced to us, he is English but has a French mother and has lived in Auxerre most of his life, although he does have a Yorkshire accent. He has just been brought off for a rest but before long he is back on the pitch playing and Auxerre win.

It turned out to be a long day before the final, but there was a BBQ going for food and there is plenty of beer. In the end Auxerre win the tournament, as far as I can work out this is the only time that they have won, we must be good luck. I am a bit wobbly on the way back but it's too not far.

It takes time to check out of the campsite as you pay as you leave and as the box for the electrics is locked, we have to wait for someone to come and unlock it.

After emptying and filling water, bog, etc, at the service point we head for the supermarket, the one we had spotted on the first day here. Some of the prices are bargains and we buy a large oblong shaped parasol, this will stand alongside the van and do instead of one of those porches you can get for motorhomes. Dot gets embarrassed by the amount of beer I am buying but that doesn't bother me much, after all, it has to last for a year.

The drive to our next stop in Épernay takes about three and a half hours, along the N77 to Troyes and then onto the A26 towards Reims, about 200K/120Miles in total. The part getting from the N77 to the A26 via the A5 is not very straightforward as there are not that many places you can get onto the A5 (we have now done it twice, two different ways and it's not simple). I think it may be just a easy to drive though Troyes, but I haven't tried it.

The campsite is on the outskirts of town on the river Marne, we get a pitch right on the river, very nice. One thing I had read about this site was, that no twin axle caravans where allowed on the site, I don't know why but there was even a big sign on the gate stating, no twin axle caravans allowed. I mention this as the site was full of them, there were dozens of them, all massive, all French and most with separate kitchen trailers. Most of them have also connected directly on to the water supplies, even though this site does not have individual water supplies. Some have gone to some trouble to achieve this, with long lengths of garden hose to reach the taps, one has even used three lengths of hose connected together, that stretches across three access roads, unbelievable.

It is quite a long walk into town but not too bad, it's a Sunday again so there is not much open. We eventually end up sat outside a bar watching a F1GP. The other people sat outside are all drinking pink champagne, this is the centre of the champagne area and the town is built on caves that are now used to store the stuff, not a great fan of bubbly.

After another walk, we end up at another larger, livelier, bar/restaurant, that is on a main intersection and is very busy. The bar has a large outside seating area where you can watch the world go by, it is here we are introduced to another fine beer, Brugs.

When we get back to the site, there is a football tournament going on is the stadium next door, it must be the time of year in France for this sort of end of season competitions.

We where only in Épernay for one night but I was surprised to find that we only had the one photo, I think this may be the first time we have not got a photo of the campsite but this does gives us a reason to go back someday.

We leave Épernay on the N51 to Reims, then round Reims on the A4 and A26. We then follow the A26 to the A2 and on into Belgium where the road name changes to the A7.