France 2007

Darcy and Dad En Vacances

Darcy and Dad En Vacances Diary of a road trip in France 2007

By David Link

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Darcy and Dad En Vacances

Chapter One—The Pants Lady Days Prequel: Thursday 28th June Well a bit of a prequel here, as we have just seen the weather forecast for Saturday 30th....oh dear.

We're hopeful that it won't be too bad, and Darcy has now got her own camera so she can snap away happily. Might even be the start of a career? Who knows.

She's real excited now, and we are both looking forward to setting off. anyone know a good weather medicine man?

Day One - 30/06/07 - Scotland to East Sussex Ahh it all started so well.... Then I woke up!

And remembered the weather forecast.

Darcy decided against breakfast - although the resoluteness of this was somewhat ruined by her asking if she could "just look in the lunch box mummy had made" at 7 o'clock as we passed Carlisle.

The next five hours were punctuated - regularly - by the short but effective enquiry lines: "Daddy, is this the way to Grandma's?" --"Daddy is this the way home?"--Daddy are we going to France today?"--"Daddy I am missing mummy"--"Daddy are you just driving around in circles?".

Rational answers were not going to satisfy this cookie. Sausage rolls were the answer.

"Daddy is this..." was finessed by "Here Darcy, wouldn't you like a sausage roll?".

This was of course only a temporary cure. The sausage rolls ran out.

So I then found the camera.

Those of you looking for an apt photo of a "soft day" may well want to nick Darcy's two masterpieces shot as Daddy was fighting to stay between the green bits.. Oh the joys of global warming.

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Arriving at the campsite in Battle in a deluge. More joy.

And everything was in a conspiracy against me; soaked, tired, with a part awning erected (I nearly upstaged the Diana concert with my rendition of Cat Steven's "Awning has broken"), no hot water as the heater has tripped three of the very patient camp warden's trip switches, we hot footed it to Grandma's and said a fleeting Hi; got invited to Sunday lunch and fed biscuits.

Don't (no really please don't) ask what gave Kracker the Jack Russell his odour of rancid polecat - I didn't.

We headed to Battle for fish n chips (Darcy insisted on Fish AND Chicken Nuggets AND sausages and chips and proceeded to do double salca's on the chip shop wet floor).

And then - everyone decided to phone me as the nice Chinese lady was asking me for the fourteenth time (less patiently each time it must be said "YOU WANT THIS [pointing to salt and vinegar dispensers] ON THEM????

Guess my ears are not in tune with a Sussex Chinese accent. But it is in tune with "Daddy, you are being TOO NOISY typing on your computer. Be quiet."

Sigh...... The boss has spoken. Bonne Nuit. Oh. Got the water heater working on gas now...when DID I last refill those cylinders????

Day Two 01/07/07 - Normanshust Court Today started out much drier and also much fresher airier, if such a word exists, as at long last the heathen softie Southerner's have caught up with us enlightened Scots and done the smoking ban thing.

However as if to get their own back, my softie Scottish tent pegs aren't man enough to cope with Sussex clay -- why didn't they tell me that when I was house building; Sussex clay is about free and granite costs a fortune!!

So after a quick trip to the ablutions where Darcy delighted in telling the whole world our toilet regime whilst chastising me if I spoke above a whisper, we hit the road for the camping supplies shop.

Then it happened. Like a light from above. Well, actually it was a light from above.

The sun came out. Not for long I grant you, but long enough to give us hope...

So we went to Battle (scene of the chip shop incident, and some other historical thing I know I should know...) where they were "en fete". Not very enthusiastically as they were only putting out the bunting as we arrived at about 10 am. As far as I could see

Darcy and Dad En Vacances (and I WAS NOT asking the locals dressed in 19th century costume) it was about Harold getting beaten.... but they were going to repel the anti-smoking lobby.

Weird Andy.

I don't suppose it helped with me shouting to them all "Hey. I'm from Scotland, and banning smoking's been GREAT!! That's one in the eye for you lot!"

Should have remembered how Harold was killed...

We spent the rest of the day at Grandma's. She's been taking lessons from Darcy on how to ask the same question fifty times in a row. It's age with both of them - funny how the kid stuff comes back as we age.

I found out Kracker's "personal hygiene" issue source; Cow's toenails.

He likes nothing better than destroying one and disgorging whatever foul substance is inside them. I can only assume its a mixture of manure, rancid milk, slurry and farmer's unmentionables.

Pretty much the Big Mac recipe.

Mind you even that's better than those tinned Westler's ones. But I digress. I may also disgust, but that's another matter.

We spent some time talking about possibly buying somewhere in France to live, and all the benefits that could accrue. Of course I haven't told Dawn but I'm sure they won't say, so I reckon I'm safe.

I just don't fancy another hex from Georgina.

That last one when I ended up strimming their grass for weeks on end was a doozie.

Any road up. Darcy wasn't in picture taking mode today (she was eating for Scotland) but she forced herself to take these two pictures of the campsite.

She told me to send her love to everyone and retired to bed gracefully at 9:00. Yes, the bed time curfew has slipped already. "It's all right daddy, I'll let you sleep in tomorrow.." Sleep in???

We're only two miles from Battle and I think they got the car number!! I sure hope these new super tent pegs can deal with hardened Battle smokers!!

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Day Three - Monday 02 June 2007 We awoke to another Monday. After a lovely weekend, back to work......

NOT!! Poor you lot who had to.

However our day stared with a sad and tragic story of an abandoned orphan who suffered the fate of being eaten by a crocodile. At least that was Darcy's answer to yesterdays "tell the world" session from the confines of the toilet. "there once was a lonely Fairy...who didn't have a mummy or daddy...AND..she was EATEN by a crocodile daddy". So now any passers by think we're the family Grimm too. Sigh.

To lift the gloom we hightailed it to an Indoor Play area near Lewes with Aunty Mel and Cousin Keri in toe. Of course, it being Sussex I should have been ready for their over-protective politically correct ways, as when we got there it was plastered in "Due to concerns no photography is allowed". So no pictures of happy kids at play. Of course, it don't fool me none.

I mean, no photographs, but free Wi-Fi internet access? When laptops have built-in webcams???. Oh no. I sussed their game. It's a ban imposed by the extremist phalange "Frumps-R-Us".

Seems most likely to me anyway. Car Park full of Chelsea tractors and every one of the mums settled inside trying hard to get peace from their charges was definitely dressed at Millets Pret a Porter.

Gordon Bennett.

I was reminded of the expressions Mutton dressed as lamb and prime target for the fashion police but I was interrupted by a phone call - "Hello, this is the Eighties here. Can we have all our outfits back off those women NOW please".

Sadly no evidence. No photographs allowed of course.

Anyway we risked imprisonment and an unknown fine by snapping Darcy and Keri in their foyer.

We then let Homer Simpson take us to Eastbourne. That was probably not a good thing.

[I should maybe explain Homer Simpson is one of the many voices we have on the sat nav to help wile away the travelling time by amusing Darcy.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances "Daddy, is Homer driving us round in circles? Daddy does Homer know the way to Grandma's?" I think this was a virtuoso performance for Keri's benefit, but it may simply be OCBD. Ill keep my eye on it.

Don't ask me to relate the ASDA incident. I'm only just getting over it. Suffice to say I don't expect to be invited to their next Christmas Party - or any for that matter.

Darcy saw her first cinema movie and we managed to avoid the "Pick 'n Mix" elephant trap [some nameless person having managed to fill a bag to the dizzy height of ÂŁ27 (yup, twenty-seven pounds)]. I gather they have been permanently banned from any cinema.

Sorry I can't name the culprit (Paul) as I am honour bound.

Astonishingly she sat quietly through the whole thing.

Arriving back at the campsite I am approached by the wifey from the opposite caravan.

Elderly lady. "Hello. Your yellow pants that you washed this morning fell on the ground, and I couldn't bear to see them lying there so I picked them up and hanged them back up, oh and there's a slight mark on them now, but I did give them a good rub....." Darcy said "Thank you very much, that was very kind" I tried to suppress the queasy feeling all over me and beat a hasty retreat. I've now got the mallet and the rock pegs by my bed and the doors double bolted.

Wait a minute...is that footsteps I can hear......????

Day Four - Tuesday 03 June Early start - up at Dawn {I won't do the joke} burying the aforementioned yellow pants.

Let's hope that's an end to that matter. Bizarrely they were doing hairdressing last night till after ten - and that was just the men folk... Anyway, I digress again.

We had a lie in this morning [actually I had Darcy hiding under her bed covers until the pants lady had gone out]. Not that that put Georgina off calling us. How she does that without using the phone I'll never know. They always have cats though, don't they?

The pants lady has a barking mop head called Bobby. They came back.

Bah. I was cornered between Bobby and Darcy.

"I hope I didn't disturb you last night [alarm bells were ringing]. I had a terrible bilious attack at 1 am. Oooh it was terrible. Must have been the red wine my friends gave me I don't drink it normally" [Yeaaaaaaah riiiiiiiight!]

I nearly told her of the bilious attack I had when she advised me of her pant-ic antics.

Anyway, who on God's good Earth has a bilious attack these days?

She'd barfed.

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End of.

I made me excuses and left "Sorry, but you are mistaking me for someone who give's a monkeys, and I have to go and do something important. Bye".

The important thing to do today was nothing.

So we gave Battle another try. The sun came out. So did he people.

Man did they come out.

There must be some kind of posh school there else they were filming an episode of Billy Bunter. We met a lovely lass in Boots (she wasn't actually wearing Boots, a la Puss in, she was in Boots the Chemist) who was wearing the last two kilos of her mother's treasured 1980's emerald glitter green eye shadow. I told her she looked a picture. I didn't tell her it was an x-rated horror picture. She took a shine to Darcy but Darcy (wise girl) backed off at full speed.

We spent the rest of the day at Grandma's and Darcy took the pictures of Grandma and Kracker to demonstrate her portraiture skills.

Which brings me to the two photos I've entitled "These clearly need more explanation" Now, I could spin you some yarn about these being photofits of my campsite neighbours and posted in case I'm never seen again, just a pair of yellow pants left as a reminder, but of course that would be rubbish and would ruin the integrity of this whole diary.

I would NOT want that. No way. No. These are in fact an extremely rare and valuable find, and will titillate any naturalists amongst you. (Naturalists are the one's with their clothes on). They are in fact Sussex elves who work in the Buxted Treacle Mines. Google it if you don't believe me. We were lucky to snap them as they were about to depart for Southport to have their own camp site holiday with their mates from the Bolton branch who had offered them a room in their holiday home. I spotted a slight resemblance to some folk I met there once. But it couldn't be? Could it? I hope they have a Plan B...

Darcy says I have to go to bed now because "today is tomorrow and tomorrow we have to get up early to go to France and eat cross ants. And meet mummy and Darryl and Laura who is also going to be a fairy when she grows up just like me". A fairy? "NO DADDY - an angel fairy! And can Kracker come too. And will you drive round in circles to get to France?"

Darcy and Dad En Vacances I daren't tell her Homer's in the recycle bin.

Jack Nicholson's doing the honours from here on in. You know exactly where you stand with him.

I wonder if these rock pegs would give Bobby a swift departure? If he doesn't stop yapping soon, we might just find out...

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Chapter Two “The preciptance in France falls mainly on the caravans�

Day 5 - 040707 Sussex to the Loire Going on a trip like this invokes images of graceful touring, pleasant encounters, joyful scenery. Sadly today wasn't like that. Granted there is some deep satisfaction at the sound of a caravan door slamming and a car starting at 6 o'clock in the morning which wakes the barking mop head and ends pants ladies bo-bo's. Not that we did it on purpose of course; it's hard to set off in total silence. We ended up getting a much earlier Chunnel crossing than planned so hit the torrential rains of France in double-quick time. First couple of hours were fine though, until I pulled off the toll-road.

For some mad, unaccountable reason (well mainly because we were so ahead of time) I decided to go the rest of the way off-peage. Bad idea. I forgot about the Peripherique. a man made Hell of the first water on which we managed to blow the entente cordiale out of the water several times with a few well aimed Scottish observations on their driving skills. They are crazy.

Apart from that, not a lot to say really, When the sun came out it was hot. The rain was intense. Oh, and my phone broke. So Lord knows when this will get posted - I'll be hunting phone shops tomorrow later and Thursday.

This camp sites a ghost town. We chatted with a girl in their Pizzeria who said Darcy was a "Petite gate" (pronounced ga-tay) which I'd not heard before and she said it was like Petite chou-chou so I knew she meant "A little cutie". She had never seen English money. I gave her a twenty p piece and Darcy was giving it "Oui" Non" Si'l vous plait" all the time. She is a little chou-chou.

The pizza was horrid but Darcy ate a heap with a pile of chips. I think we must have been the only people to pass time with the Pizza girl for a long time.

Fortunately it's not so far to our next stop and we get holed up for a few days. Hope my French improves, but so far we have not had to say "Do you speak English". Oh, and sadly no pictures today. Darcy was in the wrong artistic frame of mind, and all we got was a load of her feet. Nice. But not what we wanted.

Day 6 050707 - Loire to the Dordogne I expect the camp site "Parc du Val du Loire" [under new management] is some people's cafe au lait but it's not my cup of tea.

Fortunately we are self contained, which saved us the ordeal of having our shins and various garments round ankles on display to the world whilst going about one's ablutions.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances Especially effective as the main thoroughfare has to part round said ablutions block to reach reception. Some reception eh?

I'm sure the piece de resistance [the brand new but sadly already cracked]; mini golf course will bring 'em in in their droves but the four foot high climbing wall was, well a little lame?

Any road up, for us it was just one night, so no matter. We headed off to the Dordogne and got a whole 2 kilometres before Darcy said "Dad, I need a pen" Well get one out your bag. "It's in the caravan" Stop #1.

French roads are of course a rule unto themselves. While going through the local village we met a dozen buses and two "convoi exceptionelle's" [for those who don't know, bleeding great big trucks] all of which necessitated complex moves and pavement climbs. In the country the roads are straight for miles and miles and there's nothing on them. Mad. "Dad, I need my hedgehog" Why?? "I want to draw him" Stop #2.

Meanwhile of course I am still looking for a solution to the phone issue. Darcy promises to help.

"Dad - are you driving round in circles to find the phone shop?"

Then she realised we were going back to the camp site we visited last year. "Dad, can I see my swimming costume?" Why?? "Because I want to make sure I have got it" Stop #3.

She also worked out that the swimming costume meant swimming, so the record then stuck at "Dad will we go swimming today?"

Depends if we fix the phone.

"I know that Dad! But will we go swimming today??" Bah. The last 30 or so miles to the camp reminded me of Dawn. She was almost sick with fear traversing the narrow roads and hairpins. Darcy rides a much better shotgun. "Dad, why are you in a hurry?" I'm not, I just want to get there so we can try and fix the phone and then go swimming. "I know that Dad - will we go swimming today?......"

The man at reception pointed us in the direction of Bergerac to find the phone shop.

Sadly my French is worse than my vanity - I pretended to understand every word, but mainly I got "Bergerac".

It is, of course, a beautiful town and we got there and visited several phone shops, all of which said "commande" - it needs ordered. Giving up I found an internet cafe to mail Dawn and tell her to see if she could get a battery and send it, and one of those "No way" matters occurred, makes you believe in Him above. The man asked the usual "on holiday?" questions and eventually conversation got round to "I need a battery" "One minute" -not being dix minutes gave me great hope -"I bought one ages ago and never Page 11

used it..." Thus the new battery, miraculously, was purchased.

A couple of hours later my belief in miracles has waned as the phone is still sturdily refusing to work. Sigh.

We'll need to go for a new phone tomorrow Darcy. "I know that Dad, but will we be going swimming today and tomorrow and every day Dad? I'm SOOOO exciting!"

Day 7 060707 Dordogne At last a chance to settle down for a few days. Peace and quiet. Calme et confort. It did in fact rain in the night, and we still have the phone issue.

A quick trip to Le Bugue on a cloudy morning to see if we can buy a new mobile phone. Cue Mr. Goupilleaud, electrical genius of the region (so I was told). I explained (in my first rate French) the problem and after quizzing me for some time he pronounced "Bizarre hein!"

I could have told him that. Fair do's though, he spent ages getting us nowhere, and I thanked him warmly for his time. I decided to fix the issue with my limited toolkit (hammer [big one for impaling hardened smokers with rock pegs - see earlier posts], pliers and screwdriver. And Bizarre hein!! it now works.

So we could start the holiday proper and do some swimming. And friend making. Darcy make friends everywhere and already (well after about an hour or so) our circle of acquaintances has grown by Allysia, Nina, mum and dad, Rachel, Kirsty and Gregor, Cara, Dom, Paddy [yes, Paddy] Claire, Gillian, an assortment of French, Dutch and German kids and parents. And Darcy decided she just had to show them all the caravan.

What was I saying about peace and quiet? And it was the very day Sylvester (her toy cat who has to go everywhere with her) decided to be ill and had to be ministered to with grass. I hope to the good Lord he ain't sick tonight.

Which brings me to today's photo's.

The eagle-eyed amongst you will have spotted a plate of what appears to be gruel. This is a warning for you all, as I was warned years ago, but ignored, NEVER to eat in restaurants with pictures of the food on the walls.

This was "legumes du jour" [veg of the day] and looked lovely - peppers, haricots, tomatoes. Today's legumes was lentils. Dry, horrible lentils. I include a photo of Darcy eating the usual kiddie fare in case I am sued for feeding her lentils too.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances I also have to qualify what I said about the frumps of Sussex and their dress sense.

The Scots on tour have them beat hands down. 20 odd stone + bikini = where's the bucket. What gets me is someone must have said to them "Yeah, you look fine in that" I guess tomorrow's 20 odd stone lobster red in bikini will = bilious. I should tell the pants lady. She'd have a field day here, there's pants everywhere. Big one's.

You probably guessed the sun came out this afternoon and we baked a bit. Luvverly. Just what we want. Apparently there's more thunder and torrential rain, but I haven't checked the Meteo (The weather forecast).

Darcy wants to know if we can go swimming again tomorrow. Of course we can. "And Dad, can we bring the little girl, and the girls next door, and Gregor, and my new friends from the play park and Sylv if he's better, and daddy I'm very tired and daddy can I have an ice cream before I go to bed? Oh, and YOU KNOW WHAT DADDY - we never ate the cakes we bought yesterday. Can I just...."

She didn't get to finish that sentence. I headed her off with "I said we could tomorrow, but now it's today, so tomorrow we'll see what the weather is like..." She's thinking about that. In her dreams. I expect she'll have an answer for me tomorrow.

She normally does.

Day 8 070707 -St Avit Loisirs It was a lovely morning. Sun shining. No-one about. Mist in the valley. Darcy and I decided to hoof it over to the pool after the customary cross ants (with butter and jam too) and we got there at 9:00.

Ghost town.

Well, I say ghost town, with us it's never that easy. The Pool Man was there. He decided to show us how good he was at his job by treating us to a display of all the flying ants his filtration had captured overnight. Aside from thinking this was likely the start of a cottage Garibaldi biscuit industry, a great way to start the day. Darcy of course cared not a jot. She was SWIMMING. The proof is in the first few of today's pictures. And she would not give up. It was nearly 11 by the time any other youngsters arrived , and she quickly hijacked a few to play ball with. Sadly the weather was dull (a bit like the entertainment folk).

We were however saved the sight of lobster red bloaters Page 13

in bikini's, which I was dreading. I can only assume they were still a-bed (if they have beds that big) or were put off by the overcast skies and the lack of folk round the pool to marvel at their physiques.

Of course they could have gone back home.

On a jumbo jet presumably.

Eventually I prised her away to go on a real adventure - a Mary Hammoth hunt.

Mary Hammoth of course used to roam this area terrifying the Cro-Magnons - at least I think that's what the guide books say. So we opted for the Pre-Histo Parc.

Mainly because they were at pains to say (in their promo stuff and by the lady who insisted on telling us in English about the tour because it was SO important - the Parc was created using the very latest scientific information.

I should have remembered the restaurant/pictures thing.

If the latest scientific information was from 1876 then I agree it was up to date. But frankly it was rubbish. I bet we could knock up a better display in a few days using cornflake packets and the insides of toilet rolls and some of George's old bits of cloth. In fact if we could persuade him to model for all the exhibits I reckon we'd be on to a winner.

Darcy's fan club was waiting for her when we returned and they were right into the whole Mary Hammoth trip. We've now got umpteen pictures of the hairy beast to bring home.

Sigh.

Saturday night at the campsite means no entertainment. You can work that one out for yourselves. I can't. At this time (about 22:45) it's pretty quiet for once.

Sylvester's better so Darcy went to bed OK. "Dad, why didn't we see the real Mary Hammoth today" "We did". "Nooooooo dad, the real one, not the big plastic one in the Park. Will we see it tomorrow?" "I doubt it. She's gone home sunburnt to spend ten days bed rest with a crate of Buckfast".

I hope that answers her question. I reckon I'll find out about 8:30 tomorrow. But for

Darcy and Dad En Vacances now it's peaceful and quiet. Until......

Day 9 080707 ST Avit Loisirs "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD" I awoke from an interrupted sleep, interrupted by the thunder and lightning. I expect half the camp site awoke to Darcy's scream too! Guess what? Sylvester had fallen out of bed. That was about 2:30. She went back to sleep easily (with Sylv restored to his natural place) - I didn't.

The thunder rolled all night, and we had a lazy lie in until about 9:30. Well it is Sunday, and in France Sunday is still what it was like to our way 20 years ago. Apart from the pavement pizza's and broken windows etc.

You see, last year I told Dawn "Speak to no-one". This year with just Darcy I thought, what the heck, let her make some friends and do stuff. But of course that's where I went wrong, and is how we ended up going for crazy golf.

You guessed I'm sure, it was us who were crazy. It was lashing it down and the faint hope of a glimmer of brightness really shouldn't have been enough to make us think it'd be OK. [Apologies in advance, this is why there are no photos today, but I get ahead of myself]. There we are, standing outside the camp reception, camp manager shaking his head at us for even contemplating playing, when KABOOOM; an instant flash and boom right on us.

Darcy about jumped out her skin.

Once the ringing stopped in our ears she was able to say "That was FUN dad!" Her expression said otherwise. Even after that we still went ahead. Crazy golf is bad enough normally. Under two inches of water it's a nightmare. Times two. we completed the course [mainly by a hefty dose of cheating] and made it back to the caravan as the heavens opened and a mega-deluge ensued. With everyone holed up there was no-one for me to slag off.

So I'll have a go at the Germans.

What is up with them and rules? It doesn't matter what the sign says, they do the opposite.

And German teenagers are about as unruly as a mob of puppies on a degree course for unruliness at the University of I don't obey any rules. Gawd they get on my nerves.

They've taken to haunting the showers at about three o'clock pm daily and making a racket that would waken a night watchman, and that'd need to be noisy. I dunno what they do in there and I ain't going to find out.

And don't start me on the Dutch folk here.

Anyway.

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We eventually got roused by some more waifs and we ended up in the heated swimming pool (it still raining) which as you will have guessed, as the lightning knocked the electricity off (and as it's still off as I write this I don't know when it'll get posted) was near freezing anyway.

Two hours of that and I was nearly a broken man.

However I did get a bit more material afterwards in the cafe. ‘ The camp cafe (is that a brand of coffee?) proudly boasts the signs "servir avec sourir" service with a smile. Well the lass who served us had a face that could have broken rock.

Man she was mean looking.

I tried to cheer her up by telling her three o'clock was a peaceful time to take a shower at the camp, and it was nice to have all those friendly Dutch folk here, and could she not look so radiant because the sun was afraid to come out and be put to shame, hence the rain, but nothing worked. She did seem to get more than necessary pleasure out of telling us the bill though. Perhaps that's her thing. Eeeeewww. She was mean.

Oh, and they have this REAL FUN thing; a quiz. For all Nations of course, conducted in French and translated via Taiwanese into English. No bias there. That's not at all like the French.

Sunday night is Disco night at St Avit. Fortunately Darcy had her boogie earlier as we waited for our tea. And that brings me to food.

And worry.

Worry because we are going to Albert and Francette's tomorrow. I'm afraid we might get given chicken's feet. I've spoken to Darcy, and she agreed to try whatever we are given, but once again her expression said different. Perhaps we'll get palome pie. Francette sounded real pleased to hear from us though.

Darcy has gone to bed, but we had a great kerfuffle about how to make sure Sylvester won't fall out again. If he does it'll be the recycle bin for him. She said "Night daddy, I had a lovely day even though I fell and I have a little blood on my knee and it hurt and I got wet and the boys jumped on me in the pool and it was cold and wet and I didn't have an ice cream [editor's note - she most certainly did!] and daddy you hurt me when you put my bobble in and then you banged my chin again and can we go to Crazy Golf tomorrow?"

Sigh....

The nice Dutch children are running round the camp site and the German teenagers are singing something I don't know what and the Disco has just started. Anyone remember the song "Camp Grenada"? Maybe tomorrow it'll stop raining and mudda farda kindly disregard this ledda.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances Day 10 090707 St Avit Loisirs There actually was one photograph from yesterday. Shot of what to do on a wet Sunday in the Dordogne - watch a DVD of course. Sorry about that.

When we surfaced today it was still raining and we found the next door Herbert's had gifted us the cig'all (cicada) that was in their tent. Darcy really liked it I'd told her how they rub their back legs together to make the familiar noise. It was a big one, and was an excellent jumper. Which was good, as it was decidedly cold today and we all needed a jumper.

On top of which the hot water in the showers was cold (a knock-on of the electricity debacle from the lightning strike). soon as we could we headed for Hautefort and Francette and Albert's house.

Here's another little French vagary. All the shops (Well at least all the one's you'd want) are shut on a Monday. Not the Tabac's or the cafe's but all the little shop's you'd want to visit after a wet weekend. It's as if they know. I expect they do.

This next part will make the two G's and the two J's sick as - well - chicken's feet. They know who they are.

I shouldn't have worried about the meal at Francette's, she is after all the cook at the local school. We had a fantastic green salad with herb cheese balls and a dressing, fresh bread, followed by sautĂŠed potatoes and roast pork, followed by cheese, followed by Ice cream and Italian biscuits. Mmmmm Delicious.

Really delicious. We then had a tour of the neighbourhood, including their son, Didier's new house which Albert has been doing up. Him and George should go into business. Of course we had to have a half hour family discussion about work I think which was the usual round of shouting and fast talking, and then it was time to go.

Well, not before Francette phoned Marie Laure to tell her we were there, and then Marie told me she is expecting. So thanks to Francette and Albert for a great visit, and congratulations Marie.

I'm going to have to have more go's at the Dutch and less at the French after that meal.

Albert said the Dutch are as bad as the English for buying up properties and pushing prices sky high. They both thought Darcy was a cutie and that she could easily speak French , maybe in one month. Darcy was on best behaviour throughout.

It was all Dutch folk trying to knock us the road to Domme from Hautefort. The French were all real polite and nice and patient. They even called Darcy "madam" at the cafe we stopped at for tea. I asked for a beefburger bien cuit (well-cooked) for Darcy and Page 17

when it came it mooed loud and jumped off the plate.

Gawd knows what rare would have been like. The Dutch ladies who came in weren't allowed access to the toilets, so I guess the French have a new pet hate country. Vive La France!

Back at camp we were surrounded by Darcy's little playmates. I am NOT letting her talk to anyone at the next sites. It's like holding a rolling crèche. And we are now hemmed in by Dutch families. It could be along night... At least it's not raining - yet

Day 11 100707 St Avit Loisirs The morning started brightly with Darcy announcing she had definitely had enough sleep and could we please get up and go swimming. Situation normal.

Also normal was the weather. In fact it was to reach new low's today, but we didn't know that yet.

We went to the Park to see how things would pan out, but they didn't so much pan out as bottom out. Once again we were holed up waiting for the weather.

I do feel for the people who have been here all week, It's been relentless. I checked out the meteo (the French weather forecast) and although I don't trust it, it says where we are going is sunny and hot. I suspect it might be a bit like Blackpool, but I hope Darcy has a good time.

Darcy's currently complaining that I am on the wrong side of the caravan. It's reason no.

423 in a series of 1200 of reasons why “I can't go to sleep”. I can see her eyes getting heavier now, and we're hoping to get off tout suite tomorrow so I want her to sleep well.

Me too.

Anyway a wet day meant a trip out for food; both to take with us and to eat. The trip to the hyper was uneventful - apart from the cloudburst. Oh, and the checkout lass who was on the telephone for ages whilst we all stood in line. No-one said anything. And they don't give out bags any more, it's pay for one or carry it.

The trip for eats was more eventful.

I'd quite liked the Hotel de Paris in Le Bugue and thought, good idea. It boasted snack food and salads which looked nice. No pictures of the food on the walls. A few locals in. I was to be in for two of the great French treats; beautiful food and beautiful women. We

Darcy and Dad En Vacances entered full of expectation - and that's where it went wrong.

I've ranted about French "snack" food in the past. We should count our blessings back home. What we have is cordon bleu compared to theirs.

The menu announced salads, panini's, frites, hams, croque monsieur, and so I ordered Darcy's choice of cheeseburger and frites without glancing up at the vision of loveliness serving.

"Pas de frites" "Eh?" "Pas de frites - no chips, you can have what is here and that is all" in French of course. I looked up.

Gawd blimey. Talk about mouton dressed as agneau.

She then gabbered to an identical specimen further along the bar. I reckon they were sisters, but without an actual appearance by Cinderella I couldn't be certain.

To inflame the males in the bar one of them had a split skirt from varicose veins all the way to arthritic hip, mmmmm.

Anyway sister 1 mustered all her cooking skills and flair and threw the cheeseburger in the microwave whilst trying to interest me in a three day old salad in a 1940's Tupperware container. Nice.

I made an excuse.

The microwaving turned the roll into a soggy mess, but Darcy ate it double-quick. 15 minutes later the croque monseiur, having being treated to a severe grilling in something that looked like it had been lurking at the back of George's workshop for years, was announced with a flourish "Ici le Croque!". I can't say what variety the cheese or ham were apart from I expect they were "type" as they had precisely no flavour. None. At all. Darcy tried some and pronounced it "lovely daddy". I rest my case.

Of course the whole culinary and pulchritudinal experience was enhanced by the obligatory ancient old bloke stuck at the bar with no teeth supping pernod and winking at Darcy whilst les beaufs were adding more Gauloise smoke to the atmosphere. And all the time a deluge falling outside.

Ahhh, authentic France. You see, we just can't compete can we? The only consolation is I think we have slightly fewer Dutch round our way.

On the way home. "Dad, I just want to say that the crick man sewer was delicious and I am hungry and can you make me one when we get back to the caravan, and can I have an ice cream, cos Granny and Grandma gave me money for Ice-creams so I could have two couldn't I and anyway I've had a lovely time even though this is the last day and I fell and I got blood on my knee, and dad I AM NOT Page 19

TIRED so can I go and play with my friends and go swimming?"

Sigh....

The Dordogne/Vezere valleys are beautiful places. In many ways idyllic. Mostly the indigenous folk are tolerant, and who can blame them for wanting to make quick and easy money from les visiteurs? Maybe they have had a gutful of the incomers, and I could understand that. But it's no longer a cheap holiday and there's a heap of other places to visit. It'll maybe look better after a week in the "French Costa's", and after all, they can't do much about the weather, can they?

Or was that dancing early this morning actually the rain man?.....

Chapter Three. A bed on the Med Day 12 110707 To Valras Plage The Dordogne couldn't let us go without one final night of rain, rain and more rain. Absolutely torrential through the night. The morning started out wet and quite chilly. But it was 7 o'clock and once again I felt no pleasure at banging car doors and other stuff or even when Darcy found her treasure. "DAAAAAAD I FOUND A SNAIL LOOK HERE" at full volume. And I reckon Madame La Varicose's croque monsieur was wreaking its terrible revenge on me. Lovely.

The trip to Valras was largely uneventful fortunately, but mostly wet and quite cold.

Gawd knows what's happened to the weather. The only two real sources of amusement being a speeding tanker lorry who was playing cat and mouse with a car that had RUS stickers on it - I guess that's Russian? He near put it off the road several times for overtaking him then slowing up again. The other was Darcy's running commentary of her mishaps. "Look Dad I have a hole in this knee where I fell at Mini Golf, and a hole in this knee where I fell at the cinema, and a hole in my chin where I banged it, and that's good, isn't it?" I dunno what I'll do if the French Social Services get involved.

5 miles from Valras and the sun came out. The camp site lived down to my expectations being not only a doppelganger for Butlin's but also being jam packed full of Dutch folk, The odd Swede (well not that they're odd you understand, just Nordic) and Dane too. It took a half hour to get in as the attendant (who insisted on speaking English even though his command of it was about as good as Benny from Crossroads) couldn't attend the vehicles properly. Plus he was far too interested in his lunch.

Oh, and the conspiracy of all things electrical against me (did I mention the phone saga

Darcy and Dad En Vacances continues with the charger now kaput and ceremoniously smashed to smithereens by yours truly, leaving an intermittent 12 volt jobby in which I have less faith than in pants lady reforming and becoming a nun) extended to the camp site electrical system having caught on fire. Hunky-dory. I reckon some L'Eclerc gremlin is reading our itinerary and planning this stuff. You certainly couldn't make it up. No electricity = no swimming pool, no shop no nothing, so we decided to go to the Beach.

The good old Med. Ahhh. Long time no sea.

Long time to walk to as well, and yet it was mobbed, so Darcy and I took ourselves in for a paddle. Swimming, you see, is verbotten, interdit, forbidden. I couldn't work out the Danish/Swedish. Not that it worried our German friends they just went ahead and swam, and the lifeguards looked suitably disinterested. I can't imagine they didn't care. About the German's? No. I think they were simply afraid to get involved.

Darcy then got a total trauma from the sand. Much tears and gnashing of gnashers. She said "Daddy, I don't want to go back to that Beach because the sand hurts when it comes off my leg, and I want to go to our house and I want you to carry me" Sigh...

She was cheered up by a trip to the play park and by her choice of tea. Croque monsieur.

Bah. At least with so many Dutch etc. I'm hopeful we won't get too many clinger's on. Darcy spoke to the Swede's opposite (other than that we're an annexe of Amsterdam) and a very nice young lad came over to offer a hand with setting up the van. His name was unpronounceable [not for him of course, he said it like he'd known it all his life] but I commended him on his English and his manners. I then had to ask his dad to move his car off our pitch so I could get in.

The Disco's just started. Pretty loud. Sadly it's in the neighbouring camp, Stalag 13 I think it's called. Not ours. Else I might have encouraged another electrical fire.

I'm not hopeful this 12 volt charger will work. I don't know if I have the heart to go on another spare part hunt.

Perhaps it'll rain tomorrow. Perhaps the Dutch will do a clog dance (yes, some of them actually DO wear clogs. Made in Balmaghie I think).

Before I go I should offer an apology to the bikini-clad 20+ stoners of St. Avit. A more unsavoury breed abounds. I'm not taking any pictures of course, but I'm sure there'll be an interest web site if you want to look. Les topless. Les topless double "d"-ers with severe gravity issues. Once again, someone MUST have said to them, "You look absolutely fabulous, go knock em dead" Else it's some kind of dare. We're not Page 21

going back to that Beach thanks to Darcy's sand aversion. Halleluliah.

Day 13 120707 Valras Plage Total result this morning. Darcy was itching to go swimming so we got to the pool at 9 am, just as it opened. Although there are several pools, the loungers aren't what you'd call abundant. Maybe 100? About two thirds of them were adorned with towels.

Remember, the pool was just opened, so I reckoned the clog wearers and sausage eaters had been out last night bagging their spots for the next day. But today was not their day.

Oh no.

In five minutes I had them moved and piled up in the corner, and me and Darcy were looking innocent as smoothies.

It did seem to amuse the lifeguards though, of whom there were several guarding my, Darcy's and their own lives for about the next half hour till folk began to turn up.

It wasn't till much later folk started arriving and heading for their reserved spaces only to find they were gone. Granted it nearly started WW3 but I reckon it was a blow for the common man (well the common man from Scotland anyway). We spent three lovely hours in the paddling pools and Darcy was totally made up with that. We left as it was getting pretty hot at midday.

I was still vexed by the phone issue and decided to see if we couldn't find a charger.

Long shot I know. Still, nothing ventured. Valras seemed the best starting point as I could lull Darcy into a false sense with the promise of a beach trip.

Valras is clearly lower end Med. Blackpool, Skegness, Cromer, that sort of thing but today with sun. With sun you can forgive anything.

I couldn't forgive the sand when it burned Darcy's and my feet as we bravely strode out.

Anyway we had a great time till Darcy added to the list of things the Social Worker could do me for by falling off a see-saw. The balloon was well up after that.

For some reason the idea of going on a phone hunt amused her, and we got instructions from a local TV shop for where to go. Beziers. Not very good instructions as it turned out, but a chance encounter with a bloke who scared me to death at the petrol station by shouting (really loud, at me) "Ou est le petit chien??? Vous l'avez vous??" Babelfish that if you don't know. Liked I'd knicked his scabby pooch. Why???? Turned out the poor thing (probably terrified of its owner) was hiding under the passenger seat. However he then responded to my phone issue question with a "Go to the Casino" answer. You can win them??? No, Casino is a store.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances A very good store as it happens. Try this in Carphone Warehouse. My phones bust, won't charge. "Well, go do your shopping, I'll put it on my charger and we'll see what happens" Pretty good service eh?

As it transpired that piece of goodness cost me about 100 Euros in the massive hyper Darcy filling baskets again.

Back to the phone shop. Phone had charged. Sold me new charger (two, 1 for car). Nice man. Olivier. Tell I said so if you meet him. But he couldn't solve my next problem. The charger is French. French socket. "Ou est un adapteur???" Bah. No help at all. I've now got French technology solving my UK charging problems, and if that's not insulting enough, I can't plug it in to the mains.

First good news, the car charger works. Then we spot a Champion and decide to try, and lurking in the "I was never bought" bit was a multi-lingual adaptor for pretty nearly every country. I knew the towel swapping would bring good fortune.

So for today no phone issues. Watch this space.

Darcy's newest injury was being brought up at every opportunity. "Daddy, I've been a very brave girl today because I fell RIGHT OFF the seesaw, and so I should get an ice cream" She seriously worries me at times.

So we went back to Valras and hooked into a little cafe and ordered. Still very warm, we were then treated to the arrival of the musicians. "Vous etes le band?" I asked, and got smartly told " Musique Francais - nous sommes vrai musicienes - NO PLAYBACK" OK. Two of them, man and woman. He then proceeded to empty enough kit out of a van would have made Pink Floyd proud. No playback eh? mmm However she was a top singer, even Darcy told her. He was a bit OTT but we enjoyed dining Al Fresco (that's not the name of the band, it means outside) and strolled along the beach in the warm evening sunshine. Not too shabby I reckon. Let's hope the weather lasts.

Darcy's given me the list of instructions for tomorrow. The same as we did today.

Minus the phone hunt I hope, but who knows.

The evening is ending like always down here I suspect - in season anyway. Scabby Euro-pop blasting out everywhere, all the newly tanned decked out in white for extra effect, and a lot of mum's and dad's fretting about their daughter's being at the mercy of the streetwise local lads. As they say in France "Plus ca change, plus le meme" Darcy just said "Daddy I AM NOT TIRED" It's 9:45 now an we have to be up on the towel interference run for nine. Wonder if I can get away with it twice? Spose I could plead Page 23

insanity. I bet they'd believe me.

What?? You agree???

9:47 and Darcy is asleep. Sigh. Am I the only parent thinks this time of day is just peachy?

Day 14 130707 Valras Plage It was a lovely start to the day. Had fresh fruit for breakfast and set off for the pool again for 9 sharp. Total nonresult. There wasn't a towel to be seen. I hope I haven't caused a diplomatic incident. It was a bit odd though.

Still, the lifeguards remembered us, and we didn't even get screened, just straight in and on with the serious business of swimming and lounging about. All in all most agreeable.

Friday the 13th. Touch wood I'm not superstitious so nothing phased us today. We rinsed through a few smalls [we actually have plenty to wear for weeks, but Dawn will have a fit if I don't wash something. She is soooooo into washing. Of course I dunno how I'm going to iron them. Perhaps they'll just bake in the sun].

The Swedes opposite (lovely family) took Darcy's offer and ate all our chocolate minieggs. I was saving them. Bah. Never mind. They cooked their tea tonight, I'm guessing meatballs and it smelled delicious. They managed not to invite us, even after scoffing my extra special choccy eggs.

We decided to go to Valras for tea, via a few other places. The beach here goes on for miles and is covered every inch by folk. They can't all be on holiday. I suppose they must be. And everyone in Europe must own a camper van (Le camping car) - I expect because they don't have any toilets on the beaches so its either buy a camping car or pee in the sea. Gawd knows what they do if they need a - well we won't go into that.

Maybe that's why you can't swim in the sea here - you just go through the motions.

When we got to Sete a mad sea fret came in. It was like fog and you couldn't see more than a few yards. Didn't deter the bathers though. Probably gave them a chance to do their undercover ablutions. Yuk. We were going for tea in Valras but Darcy learned a lesson about escalation which curtailed that. She was playing in the sand and started throwing some and got a facefull back for her trouble. You'll see the picture of her looking like, well, a good double for the Puss from Shrek before her enforced shower. We had a long talk about what was acceptable.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances So we went to the camp restaurant (the waiters aren't gay I don't think, it's just called the camp restaurant. Maybe the diners are gay. Who knows) Plus it's Bastille Day tomorrow which is always good for a laugh. I might even jump off the wagon and get a beer. Of course, the fireworks have already started as everywhere tries to capitalise on the festivities.

Darcy says she has sand in her ear.

She have a flea in here ear too if she doesn't go to sleep. It's nearly 11 pm. Still, it is holidays. But I want to go on one more low level interference run at the pool tomorrow and that means being up early.

The kids are running about, the jeunes (the teenagers) are doing their thing noisily, and I expect we'll get as many if not more loud homebound singers tonight as last night.

Then the bin men were out at 6am. Then again they're always out. The place is spotless. It's also under 24 hour video surveillance (Valras that is). Should I worry about that?

Day 15 140707 Valras Plage Bastille Day. I always hated those Bastille's. Especially the strawberry flavoured ones. Or was that Pastille's? I can never tell the difference.

And this morning the weather was indifferent - at least to the forecast which said not good. It was in fact good. Although we did have to travel later for the sun. But I get ahead of myself.

We made it in time for the towel run, but once again, no targets. They must have got the message. Pool side was peachy till Darcy added yet another war wound - this time to right foot little pinkie, scrape, not deep. I add this detail in case it is needed in court. We decided after that to go to Carcassonne.

Carcassonne is a groovy medieval hill city/fort thing, that when you look at the pictures in the tourist blurb you'd never guess it was surrounded by a huge modern industrial city.

The old city is magical; just what you'd expect. Walt Disney said it inspired him to design his Magic Castle. It's full of turrets and little passageways and ancient stuff.

Of course most of it is "fake" - in as much as it was rebuilt by helpful 19th century (I think) folk. Anyway it doesn't matter. Because we saw none of it today. The whole of France was there - for the Pastille Day celebrations of course. It was mobbed, totally. We could have parked but it meant a two day walk in. Bad day to visit the place.

So we went to Minerve instead. We hadn't been before but it was very neat. Old, a bit crusty, but as only the French do, nothing was allowed to be altered. Apart from the huge bridge to get in. And the few gaudy cafe signs. And the few alterations on the "non Page 25

-tourist" side. Nothing. It's a good idea.

Bad move #2. Back to Valras for tea. It was bouchon-ed. Nose to tail for miles. Those French'll do anything for their Pastille's. NOTE TO SELF: Never try going anywhere in France on 14 July especially if it's a Saturday.

We dropped at camp and just made it into the restaurant, although they were mobbed too and it showed. Didn't they know the 14th was coming? And it follows the 13th??

Then horror of horrors, the camp entertainers (they weren't necessarily gay you see oh we've done that already) struck up the mini disco show. I thought the Birdie Song had been erased from history. Not here. Plus another heap I'd never heard of, each requiring special moves that would have challenged the very best line dancers - so easy for the up to 8 year olds.

"Daddy, it's a special day in France and my toe is feeling better it just has a little blood on it and you said I could join the party". Well I did tell Darcy that. So off she went to join the show. Awwwwwwww. What fun. It was. Honest. But I'll never admit it!

If the photo's don't make it today it's because Buoygtel is total rubbish and if I could get connected to Orange again it'd work. BAH. Loads of Feu Artifice going off I expect for hours yet. Never mind. I have a beer left. And its a holiday. SO, Vive LA France! [Mind you there's a limit to how many times you can hear La Marseilleise and refrain from crushing an onion....]

Day 16 150707 Valras Plage

The morning after the night before - for the Pastille merrymakers anyway, We just chilled and listened to tales of beer and wine drunk and fireworks seen. Lazy Sunday morning. Funny how Sunday still seems like Sunday. Even here, the natives and visitors alike all sleeping in or chilling. So I did the housework. Mmmm. Luvverly. And just for a change today we went to the Pool in the PM. Not such a good idea for three reasons: no opportunity to do the towel thing; a rather forward Dutch woman "Mister..Mister...MISTER!!! You want to let my little girl play with yours in the pool" I should have remembered my warning about talking to strangers on holiday. Within twenty minutes I had her life story and she even managed to tell me her little girl was little "Becaush I yam not big myself" BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Hope no-one buys her a mirror or bathroom scales. In fairness it was probably comfort eating as a result of her recent divorce. Yes I got it all. "Now ve must go as shy yam riding the horse layder" I didn't manage to get the stable's number to warn them to put a brace

Darcy and Dad En Vacances on the poor horse.

We made our excuses and left - quickly.

Off to tea in Valras in a swanky hotel.

Les rosbifs. That's what the French call us (well the English mainly but we all get lumped together). As you know I can't stand national typecasting, so I ordered a salade de tomates [which incidentally was delicious] and Darcy ordered poisson pane which is pretty close to a big fish finger. OK OK - I had beef main course, but it was just to reinforce the waitresses belief you see; subtle irony I doubt she got. She took to Darcy [as oddly most folk here do - it's rare for us to promenade without someone telling me she is beautiful]. So I gave her a good tip when we left. "Nous ne sommes pas toutes les rosbifs!" I'm sure she'll find that more use than a few paltry Euros. Mind you they like their cash over here these days. Menu enfant is around 7 - 9 Euros and is always the same - seems a bit steep to me. Even the predatory Dutch lady had said "Germany ish coming up becaush the holidays here are getting eggspenshive" I totally get her drift.

Out the restaurant "Daddy I thoroughly enjoyed my tea. It was the best tea I ever had.

It was delicious. Can we go to the Fair now? You promised me I could go today" Another little trick lost. Up till last week I could fool her by saying "we'll do blah blah tomorrow, I promise" Then next day she'd say you promised we'd do blah blah today" and I'd say "Ah yes but it's today now, so we'll do it tomorrow". Not any more. She has that sussed.

It was lovely day, but it doesn't matter how good it gets tomorrow [our last day here] we AINT COMING BACK. Lot's of folk clearly like it but man it has an acquired taste.

The Euro-pop is on again. "Shnappy schnappy schnap" "Bing Bang Bong" Am I sounding like that Meldrew bloke again? Must be spending too much time with old folk - err George and Georgina.

Oh there was one bit of unmissable when a four foot zero pit-bull of a French woman had a right go at a German bloke for not being out of his pitch by the statutory 2pm. I was going to tell her they NEVER obey the rules, but I feared for my life.

Nice to see the European dream lives on...

Day 17 160707 Valras Plage Our last day in Valras Plage. Started off with an azure blue sky, light breeze, and the pool. Most of Darcy's old friends had gone, and fortunately the predatory Dutch lady wasn't to be seen (and we would not have missed her had she been there).

However new ones materialised and Darcy ended up having a great time, even though we had several complaints about being cold and tired and having sore legs. Usual stuff.

Page 27

We can now reveal that despite billions of Euro's being spent on promoting Union Harmony [That's not a new popular beat combo, it's an aspiration] the Brussels Bureaucrats only have to high-tail it down here at 12:00 precisely to find the magic bullet for getting the nations in tune. Well in tune might be stretching it a bit I suppose.

Line dancing by the pool If only T. Blair had known - he could have had the Nations in Unity grooving to "If you'll be my girl" whilst confusing them with complex and totally pointless dance moves (dance again is stretching it a bit). And the secret weapon is competition.

Cunningly the hosts had lined up les frogslegs on one side of the pool and the clogwearers and rule-breakers on the other. Neato. That could have stopped at least two major conflicts. The whole fiasco -err wonderful spectacle ended with a mass dive into the pool symbolising the washing away of barriers and the cleansing of minds and souls in pure friendship.

Mmm, no that's rubbish isn't it. It was because it's hot.

We can't say goodbye to Valras without assuring our valued reader that the euro-bashing is done solely for comic effect and does not reflect the author's personal views [which if you give a monkey's are tolerance and respect] This statement comes as we were shocked to find that the very nice Swedish family opposite who had played with Darcy and eaten my choccy eggs and not invited us to dinner are in fact not Swedish at all.

(Well if they didn't all speak English with an American accent it'd help). They'd borrowed a car with Swedish plates and are in fact.....Dutch. I reckon the choccy eggs incident saves me though.

We went to the hyper market later on, and once again I was amazed how busy it was. So was Darcy. "Daddy look at ALL THE PEOPLE! Where are they all coming from.? Dear oh dear “[That one's always a killer, she says it like my mum] “Do they all have a Tom Tom? And are they all going round in circles too? Daddy LOOK AT THAT RESTAURANT WITH THE SLIDE!!!! Can we go there now. Daddy I've got sore legs and I'm a little bit tired now."

Sigh....

Nope, I have to admit, Valras has a lot going for it; although if it were built at Powfoot it would definitely fail. Darcy's opinion? "Daddy I wish we could stay here. Can we? Can we come back? I enjoyed myself soooo much here Daddy" It's not like so many UK places, either for the infants, the young or the old. It's a real mix. The sand is golden, the summer sun scorching and of course it's been handy for the western mainland Europeans.

But I reckon it'll probably revert to a French resort for the French as it is just not cheap to get here, or to stay here (this campsite is the most expensive on our trip by a country mile). And it's not really unique.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances But this isn't a travel service. If you come you may love it. How would I know?

They won't let us out till 7 tomorrow morning. Obligatiore. Gate is locked. That's when we'll be off to the mountains. I hope the Tour de France isn't round those parts.

Perhaps I'll change my name to Fritz and stick a D on the number plate. They'd let me out then. And of course I wouldn't care if they said no: I would just go anyway.

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Chapter Three Near Swiss Bliss

Day 18 170707 Valras to Neydens The trip to Neydens (off Peage/Toll Road) is about 8 hours but is worth the extra time not just because of the wonderful scenery but also because it nearly doubles the time you can have being a companion to those French Knights Hospitalier of the road, Les Truckers -least I think that's how it's spelt.

Boy are they some pieces of work. We've been cut up, tailgated; carved up, sworn at and even overtaken up a mountain pass on hairpin bends. You need to keep well away from those guys. Plus they all need a shave. Mostly on the chest and back.

We headed up the A75 (yes, that's right) and nearly went over that great big bridge (I don't do heights too good) by Maliau but Darcy took a picture of it anyway.

Then one of her elephant. ?????

She had a job waking this morning. 6 o'clock didn't suit her. It didn't bother me, I'd been awake all night courtesy of les nightclubbers. But as usual we were quiet as mice setting off so as not to disturb their wellearned rest. Yeah right. I'd asked Darcy to remind me to do something as we left (not nasty!) and without missing a beat as soon as I roused her she told me. Awwww. What a lass. she the gave me the full tour of her injuries sustained to date. I suggested she might like a sleep. She preferred to eat.

Only a couple of observations today as it was a travelling day.

Firstly if you caravan in France when it's hot you need to know the word "ombragee".

Even then it doesn't mean you'll get a shady spot. The lady here even took us a tour of the site on her quad to show what was available, and every shady site was taken by Dutch folk mainly. It wasn't till we'd parked we found she hadn't shown us the prime spots - presumably already allocated to Helga and Johann. They must think it's true about mad dogs and Englishmen, but I'm going to let the club know what I think of this practice [Return of Meldrew?]

Secondly here the Haute Savoie is very like Switzerland, which is only a few miles away.

Sadly their clock making prowess has not travelled that distance - all the 5 town clocks here sound the hours at different times. I expect the trains run on time though. And the phone link is scorching (compared to France telecoms anyway). We might go visit the Swiss tomorrow. Poor them. Think I should give them the web site address?

It's quiet here. Just the sound of cowbells and Dutch

Darcy and Dad En Vacances voices. I suppose the Germans think it's too near for a holiday. Or maybe the Swiss just freak them out. Oh. And we seem to be on Geneva airport's flight path. Yippee

Day 19 180707 Neydens Neydens. Not a very big point on a map. But unsurprisingly overlooked probably because of it's 5 mile distant neighbour, Geneva. In fact the nearest town, about a mile away is called ST. Julienne en Geneve, so you can see where it's heart is, even if it is still in France. The border with Switzerland runs so near I expect it's difficult to say whether they're Swiss-French or French-Swiss. Certainly their streets are very clean and definitely biased to pedestrians, which is Swiss. And the real tell-tale is the existence of Toilettes Publique, nice affairs, totally unlike the normal French WC's and peek-a-boo urinals.

The restaurants sell Fondue and meatballs, so I'll let you make your minds up.

This morning we watched the world go by. Or more precisely we watched a video, as it was a) overcast, b) day after a long drive, c) day after a bottle of wine or d) Darcy's "me time". Delete as appropriate.

When we did get moving it was only as far as the pool.

It was hot hot hot and the pool was cold cold cold, but Darcy decided today was the day she would learn to jump into the pool, and then we went into the big pool which was about zero degrees and swam for an hour or so.. In fact it was deceptively hot and your correspondent got somewhat burnt. The factor 40 kept Darcy OK. We had to go see the reception lady then, as Darcy wanted ice cream. The reception lady is, erm, unique. she spends most of the day scooting round the site on her buggy, whilst talking on the phone and smoking. Quite a feat. She explained she is not selling the ice creams when the restaurant it is open (she won't speak French to us) so we had to do business with ze restaurant.

Then the big news. The camp entertainment officer Frau Loudenschpeaking told us of the unmissable games in the field at 2:30. How could we miss it. This was THE event of our holiday so far, but I won't go into it here as I was sensible enough to take my video with us, and if it comes out OK, trust me, it'll be a box office winner. Suffice it to say I got enough material to dine off for months. What a hoot.

The day got hotter and so we (literally) hotfooted it for St Juliene de Clary. Small but beautifully formed. We bought some wine and a hat for Darcy which is small but her poor bonce was frying and Darcy decided she wanted fish fingers for tea. Lucky me, Page 31

cooking again. Capitaine Iglo to the rescue. Capitaine Iglo is the evil love-child of Captain Bird's Eye and the big bloke out of TinTin whose name I forget. Darcy reckoned his fish thingies were good. We also managed to get some Scottish salmon, so tell that Salmond bloke we don't like him but we're still supporting Scotland's brave fishermen (well fish farmers, but you get my drift). ‘ When we were eating tea, Frau camp entertainer asked if if we would be joining them for the big cheese tasting session tonight. I explained a) we were eating our tea [mebbe her eyesight's bad], b) NO and c) wouldn't it be a good idea to let folk know in advance what's happening??? She thought that was a good idea. She won't speak French to us either. I told her I ain't an unpaid English teacher or practice buddy.

Actually it came out as "For Gawd's sake why not tell me in French - I'll say if I don't understand" - I was under Darcy feeding pressure you see, as she had dropped some bread, which as everyone knows always falls on the buttered side, like cats - well they aren't buttered of course, but I'm sure you understand. Darcy didn't, so I was being tortured with "Dad, why does buttered bread always fall and land on the butter?" whilst Frau BigschmilingNoPSrachenZeFrench was straining her knowledge of English to its absolute limit of four words in a row.

OK OK - I was touchy. But wouldn't you be trying to explain to a four-year-old why gravity works more on butter than on bread????? Oh don't go on about it!!!!

ERRrrrrm.

Sorry about that.

I don't have my medication. Dawn says she's bringing it, but who knows.

Anyway Frau whatever went away smiling, confident that her command of four words of English would EASILY be enough to get her a job on any of the UK's train information services where she could get her own back. But that's another story.

Darcy told her mum "All I had for tea was little fish fingers and NOTHING ELSE" Sigh.... If only they realised the effort, the sacrifices.

I wonder if that'll be her abiding memory of her holiday with dad? "I only had fish fingers" Sighs again. I expect it'll be in years to come when she talks to her Scott equivalent "I tell you, 3 weeks away with him and I had more holes in me than a colander and lost more blood than Dumfries Blood Bank when the fridges blew up" Ain't being a parent great?

Darcy and Dad En Vacances

Day 20 190707 Neydens

Moaning Day. Not me you understand. As any regular reader will know, I NEVER moan about anything.

Darcy moaned for ages this morning before getting up and berating me for not having her breakfast ready. Then she ate about half of it. Then she went on and in about "Can we go to that place; what's it called again? [me: Switzerland] Yes, to see the advertising and that Halloween thing" Beat the heck out of me. I headed her off with a trip to the pool.

The pool was livened up by a couple of "amoureuse" - young lovers - who I ended up offending by telling them good and loud "Allez louer une chambre". They didn't seem too amused, but I don't want Darcy getting into that stuff yet. I have enough bother with Cam, Clo and Darryl.

A fat - err well built - family from Aberdeen applauded and whoops we did it again, they started "chatting" . They moaned. And oddly they even recounted other folks moans.

Well, you know those Aberdeen folk. It was too wet, too cold, too hot, too expensive, too down-market. Honest, I never heard the like. You'd NEVER hear me go on like that.

Gawd it was hot today, really hot. Phew, what a scorcher. The Aberdonians played with Darcy in the pool, and eventually we decided to head for the hills, the Jura mountains, about 20 mile away.

The last 5 miles almost straight up. Well, I say "straight" but as it's a French major route it's narrow and hairpinny (is that a word?). But still we found a demon French lorry driver ready to overtake us on the hairpins. It has to be a competition. Surely. Then we met the Fair trucks coming downhill at 1 mile per hour - lorry+ trailer+trailer+caravan. Man they must have a patron saint of brakes is all I can say. 1 of them was loaded to the gunnels with elephants of all things.

Good job it was a trunk road. Ouch, sorry about that.

At the top of the pass we stopped to buy Swiss chocolate....

Now that gives me two opportunities; 1 to say what a stupid place they put Geneva in [you have to use it like a rat run to get from here to the other side of Lake Geneva, France again]; and 2, to tell you Geneva is not Switzerland any more, it's some kind of mad Euro-land, and you should avoid it [in my humble opinion] Page 33

The moaning Aberdonians told us it took them 4 hours to park. BWAHAHA. They were lucky. If you absolutely must go to Geneva, go to the train station and get a train. Yes, the station nearest to you. That's right, the one down the road. Honest, it'll be quicker.

And forget about planes. Unless you enjoy paying danegelt to get to a decent part of Switzerland. You know. That bit where Julie Andrews sings. And Heidi lives. Anyway enough of that.

However, the big event of the day (apart from returning and finding Frau IVillgetyoudoingzeactivities creating next week's torture list. She asked Darcy what she liked to do. Darcy, Gawd bless her, said, "Going to Disneyland". Not a lot a Frau with a clipboard can do against that.

Tonight's entertainment: the restaurant band. A guitar duo featuring the smaller of the two Chuckle brothers and Fatbelly Gutbucket who are still belting it out nearly four hours after we started our meal. It's not that they're bad, far from it, but it's soulless copies of everything from jazz, blues, rock and everything in between including a technically accurate Smoke on the Water. And between each song, the volume goes up just a little.

Anyway as Prince Charles says every day, "Still no reign" so mebbe it'll keep off. Who knows. Certainly not the meteo (FR weather forecast). If they do they're keeping it to themselves.

Tomorrow's surprise for Darcy is Father Christmas's authentic land just up the road. I wonder if it'll snow?

Day 21 200707 Neydens The whole Pere Noel visit thing was a bad idea. Least ways that's what I now decided having slept on it. Well not ON Pere Noel. That would be silly. The French Pere Noel is a skinny critter covered in ivy. Ewwwww. That's really what did it. I could hear Darcy "Daddy, why are we here? That's not the REAL Father Christmas. He doesn't have a fat belly like yours [BAH] AND can I have my ice cream now?" No I couldn't put up with that.

But the weather had broken. We ventured into the indoor pool, heated too. Too many little boys playing with water pistols though. I could only stand an hour of it. Well actually it was the great bruiser of a bloke, bearded and tattooed, who came in with his tiny new born and stuck the child naked in the pool. My brain atrophied at thinking what I would say to him if the bebe did a whoopsie in the pool. Man he was big, and boy was that baby tiny.

I decided leaving was easier, so we took the trip to Annecy.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances If you ever went to Bowness on Windermere on a sunny day, Annecy is a bit like that.

Except Bowness was built by wealthy Victorians an invaded by the masses in the 20th century; Annecy was built by medieval folk and probably invaded by everyone from the Huns to the Vandals. Oh and the mountains are bigger. Well, they are the Alps. But they both sell ice creams, have tacky gift shops amidst expensive hiking/skiing shops and have boats.

But the French just make the mundane seem fabulous. A cheese and ham toastie is a "Croque Monsieur"; a pancake is a "crepe"; a half pint of lager is a "demi-pression"; toast is "pain grille" - it all just seems more I don't know, sophisticated?

It's also EXTREMELY weird to sit in a cafe next to folk exhaling smoke on everyone. But even that seems so much more cool than having a ciggy back home. Very odd. Maybe that's the lure of hot climates. Stick a urinal in the street our way and the government would be brought down here it's accepted.

Annecy is lovely. And it's the gateway to the Alps - French and Swiss and Italian if you're brave enough. We decided to go and check out some mountain passes. Thank Gawd I had Darcy there. I had to concentrate real hard just to keep on some of the roads. And once again the spirit of the continentals came through. On a mountain pass UK it's mainly Mondeo man lost, trying to find somewhere for a nice cup of tea. Here it's anyone with with anything from a Fiesta to an EVO 7 looking to see how fast they can get from 0 to 2500 metres interspersed with masochistic cyclists [who would want to climb a mountain pass on a bike?] and enormous fat cigar smoking truckers who are hell-bent on powdering the tarmac and pushing it over the side.

The art of living up a mountain must be pretty interesting too. I dunno what they all do, some farm, lot's of builders, and someone must make a mint out of road repairs but they'd need a good head for heights. All of them. Darcy liked it too. We'd go back there, but getting Dawn up the mountain might prove tricky.

"Dad, are we back at the camp site yet? I want to go to that place, what was it again? [me: Switzerland] Yes Dad, to see the advertising Halloween can we. And you said we could go and see Santa Claus didn't you. And I've been very brave looking after you on the windy roads Dad. Can I have an ice cream?" Sigh....

We have to start heading North again soon. 3 weeks sounds long, but trust me, it ain't.

You know it too. Remember how long this trip seemed? I expect all trips do. The weather forecast everywhere in Western Europe seems bad; I wonder if this is what it's going to be like. It's freaked this campsite's owners. They've always got the skiing season to look forward too though. Provided it's not like it was last year they said. No winter snow; little winter sun. At least if the ice-caps melt and the sea does rise 1000 feet they will be safe here. I hope all the Dutch make it home by then...

Page 35

Day 22 210707 Neydens Frau Camp Entertainer looked real sad when she learned Darcy is leaving tomorrow. "Vat a pity. You vill miss all the stuff". She had come to give us next week's torture - err "animations" list.

She'd clearly forgotten the competition next week is Disneyland.

Lucky us. Not just for going to Disneyland, but for missing her feeble attempts at entertainment organising.

Plus, it was persisting down again today, more thunder etc (situation normal in Blighty we hear too) so I don't suppose she felt totally motivated. She certainly didn't look it.

Les weekenders have arrived, but many of the touring folk have gone away. I expect her activities next week will be under-subscribed. If this mad weather which seems as we noted before to be all over Western Europe continues I expect a lot of tourists won't tour.

Which brings me to something else. The Swiss (the Genovese anyway) use this area as their shopping ground presumably as it's much cheaper. They still pay in Swiss Francs which the locals seem to trade for about 1.60 Euro's to a Franc. I thought they were Euroe'd right up, having the International element with the EC and whatever else. I expect they're too busy shooting atoms around underneath us to be bothered to change.

They don't seem too popular here so I guess being neighbours has the usual mix of good and bad points.

There's something quite soporific about being in a caravan when it's raining good and hard. You'd think it would wake you up, but its sent Darcy to sleep "I don't want to go to bed daddy, I'm not tired AT ALL and I want a huggle anyway" in double-quick time.

It's certainly not been a hectic day did it.

We did exactly nothing today. Well a swim as per normal followed by a trip to the shops is all. I do of course get some work done everyday by the miracle of VPN, but that's another story.

Lazy lazy Saturday. And tomorrow it's off to the halfway house en route to our Paris part tour. I'm finding it hard to believe we've already been away for 3 weeks. Darcy says she's had a good time, but of course a good time for a four-year-old can be anything from a giggle through an ice cream to whatever. She's been a great travelling companion and whatever we've done she's tried to help in some way. I'd have still liked all 6 of us to be away together, but of course those days are long gone. Maybe one of the essential parts of holidaying is to be wistful and remember holidays gone by. Who knows when or if we will have another.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances If we do I'd come back to the Haute Savoie for sure. Base in Annecy perhaps, or Thones - although this camp site is OK it's just too near Geneva. Annecy feels more familiar and it certainly met with Darcy's approval; but as you may expect, so far her resort of choice is the seaside one which I really didn't like. Sigh...

A day's travelling is probably just what we need but I sure ain't looking at the weather forecast. I might keep on driving....

Oh but wait. Aunty Beeb tells me that this weather is the fault of El Nino moving the jet stream further South. That's all right then... NOT. If that's true, and it looks like it is, then we can all look forward to more rain. more floods, less summer until someone kicks that lil Nino's butt from here to next week and gets things back to where they should be.

And WHY pray tell is the El Nino not forecast then? Isn't it called Nino because its a regular thing? Not so good news for anyone trying to claim from Insurance though, I bet there's a Nino clause in every policy somewhere... Happy summer....

Day 23 220707 En Route to Thonnance-Les-Moulins

We managed to set off before 8, which was good, because of my cunning plan.

As you need a vignette to get on the bit of motorway that goes through Cuckoo Clock Land, and we don't have one, I knew we had to cross Geneva again, and there was this nasty roadwork's thing that caused a lot of problems. However I had seen that it wasn't a blocked road, just the ultra cautious Swiss stopping any possibility of an accident by banning through traffic. I reckoned on a Sunday morning, early, we'd be fine to risk it.

So we headed off on the trek. All was fine. Fine until some clown on a motorbike overtook us about a mile before said roadwork's. He then slowed down, and we followed him into this banned section. AHHA I thought, he's doing the same as us. If the police are about I'll just say I was following him (in my best English accent, no French at all).

Suddenly this guy stopped. He started pointing at the "Sauf Riverains" - [except locals for access] signs, and then got off his bike. He was about 6' 6" and I thought ruh roh, bad case of road rage here. He started berating me for going down his street when it was banned and I thought would you Adam and Eve it, these durned Swiss are so lawabiding I meet the only local about and he has to give me a roasting.

I feigned ignorance with some pretty convincing pigeon French and suggested I should turn back and then for some reason I asked him "Is there another way" He seemed to change his manner and asked where we were going. Quickly I said in French; "Whinnieliggate in South West Scotland!" He was amazed and practiced hard on Page 37

"Whinnieliggate". I dunno where he thought we might be headed - and proceeded to give me a selection of new routes (all equally useless because of the vignette thing) and advice on how to get past Paris and on to Calais.

About half an hour later I thought I was going to go mad, so I shook him warmly by the throat - errr hand, and thanked him. He advised me how to avoid the police at the roundabout at the end of this blocked road and off we went, quick as we could muster.

I ask you. And what luck meeting him eh? I couldn't begin to satisfy Darcy's questions about him and what he wanted so I told her he was one of the gnomes of Zurich who was off to Sussex to visit the Buxted Treacle Mining Elves, and he'd got lost and I was helping him find his way. Oddly that did stop her.

"Daddy was he going round in circles like us?"

Sigh... I don't ever want to go back to Switzerland.

After that the trip was mostly uneventful. We did take a snap of Lake Geneva from the Jura Mountains. As for the French, I still wonder that a race that can produce Charles Aznovoice, great wine and Croque Monsieur's should find it necessary to get up at dawn on a Sunday morning to cycle up a huge mountain [and presumably come back down again]. Darcy tormented me as climbed and descended the mountain passes, and even snapped a precariously suspended roadway we had to traverse. When we stopped for diesel (We were lucky to find one open on a Sunday) she said; "Daddy you were very brave going over the squiggly roads, and I was very good holding your hand, so can I have an ice cream?" Sigh...

As we're in this camp site only one night they stuck us in the camping equivalent of the hospital bed by the door. They still insisted we had a copy of the week's "Animations" and I half-expected to see Frau Kummongettupandjoinin's face here on weekend moonlighting, but they have their own torturer general.

Regular readers will notice that I've laid off the Dutch and Germans a little recently in the spirit of the entente cordiale (known in English as the Beer Tent). I never even discussed their propensity for bringing their four-legged flea farms with them to pollute the sites (or add to the appalling smell created by some helpful site owners who provide doggy toilets - bare ground festooned with doggy poops baking in the heat.) I know the French do this too, AND they bring their little darlings to every restaurant to give a piquant addition to the smell produced by their Galloises and multi-coloured Russian's, but hang it all, French dogs have such darned cute names.

Foofoo and Choochoo and so on. One we met was even called "Happy Boy".

But here they have committed the ultimate pet holiday misdemeanour by bringing their

Darcy and Dad En Vacances CATS and parading them on leads. Sure it amused Darcy, but for goodness sake. At least a dog could save your life [if you were stranded and starving it'd make a good meal]. I livened up one Dutch family's day at least.

"What a lovely strong looking cat you have! I bet it could kill one of those Alsatians over there" "Ne, ov course it cuddn't" said the cat's owner who I took to be grandma of the family. "It could if it gets stuck in it's throat!" They all laughed but it faded out quickly as their translation cells kicked in.

We headed for the restaurant and I was ready to impress with my growing command of French but were met with twins from near Edinburgh and the rest were English. Still you don't get no locals waiting tables in Edinburgh or many paces in England so I guess this explains why.

Big event tomorrow. Clean the toilet. Oh - and it's Georgina's birthday I believe.

Now, which should I attend to first...

[Tech note. Only 1 operator here and it seems they don't do the necessary to get this uploaded. Will try Monday elsewhere]

Day 24 230707 En Route to Crevecoeur-En-Brie The camp site lady summed it up "Bonjour" says she. "Bonjour??" Says I looking skywards at the torrential. "Oui, oui, oui" says she "Juillet est catastrophe" Not just here either. But they were all very nice folk and helped with our litany of questions. "When will it stop raining? Where can we buy a suitcase?" [Don't ask] "Where can we buy rainwear?"

But I get ahead of myself. In true travelogue style, I should start at the very beginning.

It was raining. Actually it started raining at four o'clock, and yours truly could have been seen running about getting in recently washed items at that time as fortunately the rain woke him up. Fortunately. That's a laugh. Oh for a few balmy nights.

The trip from Thonnance to Crevecoeur was a short one for us, about 3 hours. We went directly to our resort hotel to see if the nice American lady was correct when she said we could park the caravan there. It seems she was, as of today we could have parked a hundred caravans there. We'll se what happens tomorrow....

The next stop the camp site where the lady summed.... Oh we did that bit already. She also sent her young lass out on a bike (in the torrent) to lead us to our pitch. Odd. You could easily have pointed to it from their Reception. Perhaps she had a grudge.

Now for the shocker. You know I [jokingly honestly] have frequent go's at our Page 39

continental cousins. Well. I am surrounded now by English. Boy oh Boy. Everyone of them feels they must say "hello" and regale me with tales of tailbacks and poor service and overpricing and bad manners and the Dutch and The Germans and The Weather.

Good Lord above. What a bunch of moaners. Honest I never heard the like. They give us Brits a bad name.

Worse was to come at the shopping Mall, a homogenous big one called shyly "Val d'Europe". Totally soulless. And totally suited to all the Jane's and Bill's resplendent in their ASDA and TESCO finest day wear gumming up the cafe's trying to find something vaguely familiar. Mein Gott, Sacre Bleu and Hond in Goot [the last one is the only Dutch I know, sadly taken from an Amsterdam sign and I reckoned it means make sure your dog poo's in the gutter or else - they are probably the one's who make use of the friendly campsite owners doggy toilets] what are they like? I mean really?

Next time you get the chance just watch. See if I'm right. I am. They could have been at Bluewater or Metro Centre or wherever. They fitted in to the Mammon machine just perfect.

Which takes me to this week's ecological note. About 9 am this morning we hit an altitude of 350 metres, and it occurred to me, if the doom merchants are correct, everything we saw from when we hit the Pyrenees' last week till then would be just about OK if the sea's rise 1000 feet, but nothing else of what we saw on our trip will be left until we get to the Pennine's in Cumbria, and our feet will definitely be damp at home. With all that flooding in West England it make's you think, doesn't it? I hope our kids do better than we've done.

Now back to the main plot.

Darcy lightened the load by saying "Dad, this bruise was from when I fell at the cinema in Sussex, this was when I...." and so on and so forth and the little minx even photographed herself in some detail to show the evidence (hence today's gallery.

I hope the authorities will see the irony in me posting them). Sigh. The sum total of our vacances.

This is also a watershed in our travels. Tomorrow we are tout en famille again [well minus Clo and Cam].

I wouldn't say you have to travel with your kids alone to make a great relationship.

Up till now I could go with a couple, but not one, and it all depends on circumstance.

What a privilege for me to have done that alone for this period. I know I am blessed and say thank you. But I would recommend it. Oh yes siree. Given the opportunity I would do this again all right. With all four of them if possible. But most of all I would recommend you savour every second with your children, wherever you are and whatever time you have with them. They may drive you to distraction, but you have to love their learning drive and their unique characters. The continentals seem to know that by instinct.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances Anyway, by tomorrow PM I shall be back under the control of she who has to be obeyed and I dunno how that will affect these random ramblings. In all likelihood it'll make them more coherent [like that would be hard to do].

For now, Darcy is sleeping, the evening is still wild; the meteo says it'll be better soon; and I bid you all a good night. {File note for any archivist left above 1000 feet who finds this in the next century. It never happened. It was all fiction} That should confuse them!

Page 41

Chapter Four—What’s the difference between Bing Crosbie and Walt Disney?

Day 25 240707 Disneyland An odd day today. The end of Darcy and my solo adventure and back to being four together. Nice in many ways.

Dawn kept me appraised of her disasters. No money to pay the taxi she had booked for the trip to the station. She said it was too far to walk. So she didn't. She had the girls up at 6:30 and was an hour early for the train... The A-Z of London was of no use. Of course, as anyone who has stayed occasionally in London knows, sleeping is an art in itself and requires a big adjustment if any sleep is to be had. Not much was.

However the TGV journey to meet up with us was easy-peasey and the first we saw of the mob was them getting into the hotel. Darcy having decided that her mum arriving required a massive wee-wee we missed the arrival of the number 54 bendy-bus from the Station. I have to say it's a super bus service. Just jump on and Emerson Fiittipaldi whisks you toute suite to the hotel. They all seem to try to beat 3 minutes.

We decided then to go to the Park and suss it out. Of course that turned into a full blown let's go on this ride AND this ride AND this ride so 5 hours zoomed by.

At this stage I must offer this quiet word to my Bank Manager. I'M SORRY! I WILL PAY IT ALL BACK!! EVENTUALLY! Zut Alors it's expensive here. And it's nearly impossible to go anywhere else but the Park and the hotels, as the whole town is built just for the Park. Never mind. We said we would do it and look, we're here [pictures to prove it too] I haven't much time to write tonight. We are off to Funland early and plan to stay until the fireworks at 23:15... Sigh...

I hope we get back for a midday siesta. I'll fill in more details then For now, we're all met up and all in good tiff. Luvverly All totally knackered now too.

Day 26/27 25/260707 Disneyland

I'm losing track of this diary.. One day it's pants lady's antics, the next it's our continental cousins peccadillo's and now we're Disneyed right up. And I mean right up..

We managed a whole day in the Park yesterday broken only by a return to the hotel lunchtime to swim. We got back at gone midnight, but to be honest if we could have had a better day I don't know how.

Of course, everyone's paying for it now. The girls (we nicknamed Laura "Laura the Snorer") are walking dead today -

Darcy and Dad En Vacances this is Thursday by the way, so at least you can keep up a bit. Darcy was a total trooper though and lasted the whole day amazingly well.

The Park exceeded expectations with rides being given thumbs up and the parade was a total hoot - you'll see from the video. Several characters made a beeline for us, and one even danced a highland fling after sussing Dawn's accent. Weird. She’s MancunianBut very funny.

The finale was literally superb, and everyone wants to go and see it all again as many times as they can. If they wake up of course.

Dawn was back to talking to strangers last night and a twenty stone Norwegian lady several sheets to the wind alighted on her and chatted... I put on my best Glaswegian accent and remained aloof. Sadly the bar boy must like Scottish accents and I got some "come on" looks from him. Sigh...

I've decided to do a warts and all resume of Disneyland at the end of the stay and give you the lowdown on the ups and downs of a world class resort..

The troops want tea now so I have to go. Maybe more later.

Cheers

Day 28 270707 Disneyland

Yup Day 28. 4 weeks away now, Don't seem possible. Water under the bridge. Well, maybe an unfortunate metaphor to use with all the rainy weather here and back home.

Laura the snorer and Darryl were persuaded to get up by me playing Led Zeppelin full blast at about 8:15. I got no pleasure from the possibility that the rendition of Communication Breakdown may well have disturbed the peaceful slumber of some of the oaves who stayed up till yon time in the morning drinking and revelling in the bar below us.

None at all.

Most folk must stay here 1 -2 nights; we stay seven and they stick us over the bar Bah! Never mind. When I glanced out the window at the terrace at short while later one of the Gallic goodies was smoking and bevvying on 1664. I dunno if he had just started or never stopped.

Now here's a thing. If you want to see some real sites, well worth remembering, just visit a resort hotel restaurant for breakfast. All human life, as the saying goes, is here. Most of it extremely badly dressed and with manners that pigs would think Page 43

terrible. They barge and shout and act generally appallingly in their rush to stuff as much volume down their cake-holes as they can (to save spending later) and get to the Park for opening. We, of course, are sublime in our peaceful approach to scoffing cross ants, cereals, fruit, cheese, spam (yes, spam, it's quite a delicacy here) yoghurt and orange juice.

Darryl adds a a touch of class by announcing to the world "Yuk! Frosties and apple juice together taste like sick!) How she knows that I dunno.

I try to explain it's milk and apple juice but to no avail. "Daddy, why does Darryl taste of sick?" asks Darcy. Sigh The assembled party decide it would be a good idea to buy some snacks for the Park and so we head off to find a store. Mmmm. Even Jack Nicholson on the sat nav was no help. There's a massive ring road around everything here, and no matter where we went I couldn't find a store. "Daddy, why do we keep going round in circles?..... Is it because we have a TomTom?" Darcy helpfully observes. Sigh...

So I opt for the Val d'Europe shopping centre, with the instruction "We are NOT GOING SHOPPING!!! Just to the hyper!!!" Some time later we found les girls in a surfboarding shop. Mmmm. Seems instructions need to be a bit clearer... I promised to take them back next week and we filled a basket with E numbers to keep is going.

Getting back past the McDonald's was torture. I'm not going to talk about it.

Back to Disney. The girls are whacked totally so Dawn despatches them to the hotel to kip at midday. We head off and have a great time going on all sorts (Modesty prevents me from saying who hit an all-time high score in the Buzz Lightyear shoot out, but I'll be signing autographs on my return).

By 8 Darcy is at her tether's end being totally exhausted. What a day. So we spend nearly an hour trying to convince her that we WILL get her a Jack the Pumpkin King toy tomorrow while she serenades us with "I want Jack NOW!!!!!" Sigh... Poor soul; exhausted. By the time we get back to the hotel she has her second wind and is now in the play area losing the last of her body fluids in the tropical heat.

I'm drinking water of course. Dawn is on the medication (1664 or Foster's apparently is de rigeur) so I expect she'll sleep well and keep us all amused with her sleeping recount of the day. Darcy will give it laldy on the opposite side. Laura seems to spend all night bashing herself off bits of her bunk (she tells us in the mornings anyway) and Darryl will find another 60 reasons why she couldn't sleep but will have not moved an inch all night being completely out of it.

And then it'll be the usual round of hair straightening (what a nightmare!) and makeupping and then back to the Park!! Wahoo! Still four days of Disney fun to go.. Will

Darcy and Dad En Vacances we all last? Will Darryl and Laura finally wake up? Will Darcy let me drive without criticising? Will Dawn have a beer-free day?

Read the next thrilling instalment tomorrow, same (ish) time, same channel. Actually it's Saturday tomorrow isn't it? Might be another late one, and we'll get back to you Sunday. Ooooh, the suspense!!!

In front of the server Day 29 280707 Disneyland

Disneyland overload. The wall was hit about 08:30 this morning and I couldn't take no more! The girls couldn't bear it either we reckon (by the way, the predictions were correct from yesterday) so they chilled for a long time this morning.

Time for a change of scenery.

We hoofed it down the road to a random destination on the map and found ourselves in a medium sized town whose name I currently forget (! -well it was a hew hours ago...) and parked up. We took a trip round and Darcy then announced "I NEED THE TOILET!". A few enquiries led us back to the car park, still no toilets, so we ended up in an unprepossessing looking cafe. What a find. We ended up having a beautiful meal in a lovely setting and really very reasonable. La Belle France at last...

We thought eventually we should go back and see how Les Girls were doing (they supposedly going to the park). They'd encountered Orange telecoms little trick to get more money in their coffers (I think in fairness all the operators do the same rip-off). As well as paying to make calls they also pay to receive them... So no credit left.

When we did get back and got ready for the shuttle Dawn said "We'd best check they're not getting off the one we're getting on". A million to one chance says I. But of course, annoyingly, they were on it! So despite no phones we were in contact! Amazing.

Not that being in verbal contact with any 14 year old girls makes a lot of difference. They just don't listen.

We agreed our plan (us to the Park, they chill, we return and have Pizza's for tea).

To cut a long story short, that plan didn't work. As we left the Park Darryl rang to say they were on their way back in (Dawn having thoughtfully left her phone with Daz).

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Sigh...

Darcy is now back in the play area here at the hotel.

Herding up random children who are now "my friends" and dragging them to an audience with her mum. Needless to say they don't want to come. She must get that bossy streak from Granny Grey Knickers. We'll beat it out of her eventually. I hope.

The day had started out very wet, lashing down, but fortunately it soon cleared. The "chance your luck" weather forecast (the erstwhile meteo of which I have spoken often) says wet wet wet tomorrow and very sunny Monday and Tuesday. UK weather back again, wet at weekends, sunny in week.

Anyway it's 19:06 and Dawn's refloating her liver courtesy of 1664 so I'd best go do some more washing up and waiting on tables.

Tomorrow is full day in Park we think with late night out again to see the fireworks once more. Let's hope it's rainy enough to stop folk coming but not too rainy for us.

They have a bell in the bar we're in. We reckon they ring it (and it gets rung quite a lot) every time they rip someone off with their "That's 15 Euro's" routine for a couple of drinks. Gawd I'm getting cynical.

I'm also developing a fairly excellent barging technique for removing certain tourists who try to muscle in or knock you off the bus stance. I can know see why the French (nation of smokers and drinkers) develop so many reasonable rugby players. We'll see how my technique develops at breakfast tomorrow.

The photo's today must appear a bit random, but I'm uploading more whilst we are hacking the hotels' wifi (until they notice anyway). Sadly I can't get power out of their restaurant sockets so for now I'll sign off.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances Day 30 290707

Unbelievable. 30 days away. Where's pants lady when you need her? I'm running out.

Never mind. Only a week to go now before we make our triumphant return to God's own land (or is the Gawd knows what?) I sure don't know. I know nothing any more.

I can't even remember what happened today. And I can't blame that durned cat. You remember. Surely. Darcy's Sylvester what normal wakes me at about 4 am. Well, the cat doesn't. Darcy does. "Dad. DAd. DAAAAAAAAAAD!!! Sylv's fallen out the bed! Get him back in!" Nope.

'Tweren't the moggy's fault. It was Daz's mobile. telling us, helpfully, at 4:30 am that it was low on power. I advised it I was low on patience and if it didn't shut up it'd be an exmobile phone; deceased; no more. It didn't listen. Just let us know again. And again.

Then it started raining again. No change there. Then the alarm went off and I committed the ultimate sin, connected to work. Where I discovered three hours worth of issues to resolve. BAH. And sigh... Life is such. Never mind. No work, no play I suppose.

I sent Dawn and the kidlets to the Park. But I get ahead of myself again..

Breakfast was a corker today. I found some Pate de Tourmaville. For breakfast? Pate? Well I seemed to be the only one who new this to be the equivalent of Nutella, delicious chocolate spread. Fabulous on cross ants. Much to Dawn's amusement I produced said packets and announced loudly to the world, "Mmmmmmmmm What FABULOUS chocolate spread!! MMMMmmmmm. It's delicious" whilst extravagantly spreading it on the cross ants and eating them. About six kids were beside themselves looking and drooling with googly eyes, and a few parents too. Arf. That was hilarious.

The assembled breakfasters were particularly ill-bred today and the staff had also had enough - it seemed anyway. I dunno why they are all so glum in the morning. Yes, it was pouring. Yes it was a scrum. Yes it was early. But hang it all they had FREE entertainment from me! What else could they want. I expect some of the things I said were lost in translation, especially the references to the War, Versailles, and clogs.

Never mind. It's all in fun.

When I got to go to the Park it was torrential, umbrella necessary weather. Gawd that was a good move. I never knew how fitted an umbrella is to removing noisy children from your path and encouraging pushy parents to keep clear. {Note to self: always carry umbrella}. However that didn't stop me falling prey to a gaggle of our Italian cousins.

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I spotted it was going to really rattle down, and bagged a seat under a shelter. When the torrent came, a nice Italian lady [elderly of course], asked if she could sit next to me.

Gallantly I of course said "Si". Next thing I knew there was about twenty of them, all lighting up some foul smelling Italian fags, and in a minute it was like a pea-souper. As I was supping Badoit I asked very loudly "I hope you don't mind me drinking water while you smoke?" Not a murmer. I was annexed and forced out.

I did of course remind them about their war-time allegiances and how our oil money financed their whatever the heck it was that they got financed by the EU. Not a murmer.

I'll never learn. I should just have said "No. Bog off. This is MY seat. Vamoose" Anyway I was looking for poubelles. Rubbish in French. Well, so is croque-monsieur and brocante but it was real rubbish I was looking for. For my warts and all review of Disneyland. Yesterday it had been everywhere. Today, when I'm armed with the evidence recorder [camera mark two] - NOTHING. I got some miserable looking staff -err sorry, cast members but not much else. Bang goes the compensation..

Rest of day was great. Loads of rides and stuff, finished off with dinner at Planet moneymaker - err sorry, Hollywood. Everyone fair enjoyed that.

Oh, we did also see the Lion King show. The show was fabulous. The queuing was nightmare and a serious accident waiting to happen. We had an interloper who wanted to crash our seats. "Naff off" says I in my best French and then English "I don't understand that" came the immovable reply. BAH. Another technique I have to learn. Understand nothing.

We went to see the Disneyland hotel on the way out.

Those of you on a fixed income will be keen to note that you can have a night in the Sleeping Beauty suite for the paltry sum of 3,840 Euro's - that's right, one night About ÂŁ2500.00. Where's my credit card? Mind you the hotel was a bit neat. But not THAT neat.

Day 31 300707 Disneyland Because of our plan today this another of the occasional half way through the day updates, so who knows maybe the best bits for this diary page are yet to come. More suspense..

Darcy and I had a little shopping expedition this morning while the girlies shot out to ride Crush's Coaster - the only thing they had as yet not been on - and some other white knuckle thingies. They were less than amused to find that it is called Crush's Coaster because of the queuing system which results in a mad dash with barging and pushing galore. Not Pussy Galore, no. Pushing galore. They didn't heed my good advice to take a brolly.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances Largely because we are back to plein soleil (full sun) again today. Sadly I have to grudgingly admit that the meteo was spot on. BAH. However Dawn reminds me I have been a little less than unbiased in my appraisal of our fellow European's foibles. I have, it must be said, largely left the Spanish and their somewhat hirsute approach to their appearance alone; and I have said zero, null, nil, rien, about the Norwegians who I think are probably the nicest of our Nordic, indeed all our European cousins, and whom I have always found friendly, fair and helpful. [Note to sister - will that do for Paul?]

Darcy and Laura got approached (if nearly being trampled in a rush to chat up = approached) by a gaggle of Spanish lads who tried hard, and with some success, to get names etc out of them. Eventually however they got frustrated and resorted to universally understood lewdities to try and win the girls affections. Thank Gawd for Disney's Speedy Gonzales. I strung together every phrase I could remember from andalay through bambino to ariba and frightened the living daylights out of the Latin lovers who thought I could comprende and was going to have their guts for spurs. What a hoot! I got pretty universal praise from all bystanders too for that one.

Today so far has been excellent with many rides ridden, food in-taken and drink drunk - I have so far managed to keep the Ayatollah off the firewater but I dunno how long for. She gave me dog's abuse for uploading photo's of her so if you think you saw them, you did. I removed them. You're cured. That'll be fifty Euro's.

I escaped to the sanctuary (sanctuary much) of the bedroom to do this part diary. I've left them with the 50 Euro's you owe me, which should keep them going for 5 minutes, unless the present mistress of the revelries at Link Mansion discovers the coffee shop (like everywhere else of course) sells beer). In fact I'm worried now. I'd best go and see if there's been a run on 1664... I'll finish this later.

Quick note about the photo's - bit random today, hope you like the one's I took on the runaway train. There's more but they're all out of focus. Tomorrow (or later) I'm going to take a movie of the ride...

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Day 32 310707 Disneyland/Crevecoeur-En-Brie Sadly We're back to Phone connection again, so may be some smaller photo's for the rest of the holiday. All 5 days of it. My mum says "Surely not, it can't be that long since we saw you" She's not so good with the time. But she's dead right. Time flies like an arrow.

And fruit flies like a banana. So there.

Better that Georgina anyway. I have NO IDEA why she emailed me yesterday to ask if I wasn't talking to her. I am sure my lack of reply will have been interpreted correctly. NO. I'M NOT. Woman's mad as a hatter. I know. I saw one in Disneyland, andit was Georgina to a tee. Or a Gee. Whatever.

We've at last escaped Disneyland, and I'll do my report on that when we get home.

Today Les Girls had their last few hours whilst your correspondent moved home and set up camp at the new camp site. At least this week it's not raining. In fact it's roastie toastie, and the crew have already had a dip and done washing (?????????) It's HOLIDAY for Gawd's sake!!! Why washing??? Anyway they done did it so now I got undies for a vista. where's pants lady when you need her??

Disneyland was, they tell me, mobbed. I'm not surprised. The world is on holiday. And the all went to Mickey's. They had a durned good time there though, so we'll leave that to rest for the moment.

I had to go to the supermarket, there not being anywhere near enough alcohol in the caravan for Dawn, and I bought the BEST chocolate cake ever. We ate it with real tea made in a kettle with the Co-op Indian Prince [note to self - send co-op bill for promotion] tea bags. Heaven.

This campsite is full of English folk, I think I mentioned that last week when we were here in the rain. WHY oh WHY do they think I'm their mate and either refer to me in that matter (awight mate?) or want to discuss the evil weather. Plus they're all white. Not pale or lightly tanned. White. And keen to show it off too. Ugh. The Dutch are so much more pleasant on the eye. Didn't I mention that? Oh. OK. And their cars are cleaner. I think their shoes are more comfortable too. But I don't know for sure.

Their dykes are iffy though. Anyway, I digress.

I'm soooooo looking forward to coming back home. Just the pleasant faces of local folk upon which to gaze, and no oddities to report on. Bliss. I told the girls the joke about the rocket and the battery. You know the one. Don't you? They were arrested and jailed for

Darcy and Dad En Vacances the night? In the morning the battery was charged but the rocket was let off... Well if they try and tell you it, that's the gist of it and try to act amused.

They CANNOT deliver jokes. Mind you, anything involving multi-tasking is bad news for fourteen year olds. And the concept of being tidy is like, well, whatever, in another world. Anyway I digress again.

I'm going to be nice to folk on this site. I'm playing them some Led Zeppelin at the moment, and everyone really likes that - well they keep looking anyway, so I guess they do. I can't help but be nice to the camp site staff. They are real friendly. And it is so nice to get that after a week of "Have a nice Day" mentality. The sun's shining, we're chilling and hopefully we'll get through the next few days without the urge to kill each other. I doubt it. We've already got enough drying of clothes to do to fill three house drying lines, and they think we're hooked up to Dounreay the amount of power they are trying to use with strengtheners and whatever. Gordon Bennet.

But it's great to be on holiday with the kids. I have learned SO MUCH about their friends, various mum's and dad's, what they get up to, rumours. Hehehehehe. Am I ever gonna have fun with the next web site, Castle Douglas HEAT. Of course if you are worried they might have let slip something about you.... Well for a small consideration I might have my journalistic integrity bent a bit. Might. Depends....

It's not 7 pm yet. If anything else happens you'll be first to know about it. Or the News of the World. I haven't decided yet.

The last days France/Sussex Sorry about the lack of posts for a few days. My editorial independence had been compromised. I'll have to continue this elsewhere.

For now, the last few days were full of ups and downs. Well, Downs, hills and Valleys.

Mainly. Our French hosts had their revenge on us when we took the "peage" from Crevecoeur to Calais , 31 Euro's being the toll. I should have tolled them off. Mind you it costs ÂŁ7.00 to go up the Birmingham Toll Road and that's nowhere near as far. I should stop moaning. Perhaps not. We had the pleasure of the company of some of the continents finest nights of the road on the way out of France. Lucky us. But we made the terminal early and so got an earlier crossing. Fortunately. The following one broke down and there was a five hour delay. Phew. We said goodbye to France by spending our change on some more wine. Calais provided us with diesel at the cheaper than UK price.

Thank you France for a fantastic holiday. We are truly lucky to have been able to do this Page 51

trip. I want to book next year now. Shall I? As ever the journey home is a mixture of sadness at finishing holidays and longing to get back home. Darcy said she didn't want to leave the camp site. It was nice. In fact they all were. I'm available for references and longer critique's of anywhere we went.

Sussex came and went. The trip back home was uneventful until Cumbria, when it poured. We entered Scotland in sunshine.

I've enjoyed writing this rambling account, and hope you've got some taste of what our travels have been like, and a sense of some of the fun we had.

It's probably fitting that I do the final part in a day or so. So I will. If you want to check back next week I hope to have the Disney review and some other stuff uploaded.

Thanks for joining our trip.

Darcy and Dad En Vacances

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