Holiday nearly over. Yet again!

Yesterday we went for a walk on the coastal path, very rocky and uneven which was made worse by two members of the group wearing unsuitable shoes. The views were lovely though and well worth the scramble over rocks.A big hug. They are not really scared, although Lucy should be, because she is wearing crocs instead of sensible trainers.
Our new site, minus our awnings. A lot sunnier and noisier but only a short walk to the ablution block.
Donna checking out her messages!
And Walter checking out his messages!
We will miss the swimming pool!
Looking forward to next year.

Running

We have been out running every morning, that is Donna runs. I manage a half walk/half jog. Most days we run on a track at the bottom of the hill behind the camp site and then along the back road. We keep an eye out for wild boar and the men that hunt them on Sundays and public holidays. The men are more dangerous I think! Then we swim a few laps of the pool. After two weeks I make a resolution that I will keep up with the running and swimming when I return to the UK but I never do of course.

As a change, we went running along the path on the sea front of Le Lavandou and La Faviere, which was empty except for runners and walkers.

Some of the beach sun lounger areas were already set up for business. This one was particularly luxurious with its white net curtains, luxury seating and pot plants. Sun loungers cost between $12 to $20 a day to hire, depending on the location. The areas also have a restaurant so you do not have to move far, in order to eat. All at a cost of course.
Setting up for the day.
Looking back to Le Lavandou from La Faviere.
Donna looking glamorous and sporty. I forgot my running gear so had to resort to a variety of items, which were definitely not sporty looking. No image, sadly.

Life in the campsite

Life continues at a slow leisurely pace at Camping Manjastre. Donna and I took Scott back to Nice on Thursday evening to catch his plane back to the UK. He was very reluctant to leave, although the thought that he did not have to help us to pack up (twice) compensated somewhat. We had an uneventful trip to Nice (1 hr 40 mins). Then it went downhill, Scott left his wallet in the car and remembered it after he went through security. I went back to collect it and could not find the car (senior moment there) so Donna had to go and get it. Meanwhile precious minutes were ticking by with Scott pacing around on the other side. Then the car park ticket machine would not accept Donna's credit card, people kept flashing us on motorway because one of the headlight covers had fallen off and the beam was shining the wrong way, and Donna took the wrong exit and we went in the wrong direction. Never mind, we got home safely at 11.15 p.m. which is all that matters.

We celebrated a 21st birthday at the campsite. The photo was taken in the morning, we are all wearing T shirts with photos of Kierran on the front. The birthday boy is sitting without a T shirt of course. Celebrations continued during the day and well into the night. Kierran had a very good day, and a birthday to remember, I think. Lucy has kept one of the T shirts as a souvenir.
We have to move sites because someone has booked our site and they are staying for a few weeks and have priority over us. We only have a few more days left. I thought I would put a few more photos on of our current site, which is lovely and shady. The caravan, with its new awning, belongs to Donna. Walter is busy reading a book. The house does not belong to us, unfortunately.
Our caravan and annex. Scott slept in the sleeping attachment at the end of the annex.
More about our new site in the next blog.

Decisions - eating, beach or sightseeing?

Every day we need to make decisions. What do we do? The pool? Sightseeing? Lunch out? Beach? Or just stretch out on a sun lounger under a tree and read a book? I love this life! The weather has also been hot with the temperature reaching 35 degrees most days.

We travelled to La Faviere and ate ice creams (before this photo was taken).
La Faviere, which is also the port of Bormes, has been transformed from a hot, treeless and bleak seaside town, into a sleek resort which is now so popular it is difficult to find a car park. This photo looks down the main street, deserted due to the shops closing at lunchtime.
Breakfast at Cafe du Centre. Donna and I rode the bikes there, downhill to Le Lavendou but uphill all the way back. We were extremely hot by the time we got back. The breakfast was worth it though - orange juice, croissants, baguette and coffee.
Sunbathing at Le Lavandou. Donna and I have decided this is a much smarter beach, and also has the advantage of a short walk from carpark and a very short walk to the water. The umbrella also came with us this time. I think I look less like a beached whale in this photo, certainly a lot cooler under the umbrella.
Of course I cannot compete with Donna!
We went to La Londe port for lunch. Scott feeling very hungry by this stage.
Walter and Scott concentrating on their moules. Very satisfying!
Down by the port, a short walk after lunch and before we ate our enormous ice creams.
A walk up the winding and steep streets of Bormes les Mimosas, which is a delightful hill top town. Very touristy and delightful.
A shop in an old cave.
Prickly pear (at least I think that is what this cactus is called) which is loaded with fruit. Prickly pear grows extremely well here, but not out of control, unlike in South Australia, where it went out of control in the outback.
Looking towards the town hall, in Bormes les Mimosa.
Reading by the pool today!

Fun outside the campsite

The weather has been glorious, every day. I am currently sitting in the bar (not drinking) looking out over the pool and surrounding national park. This is the life, no responsibility except thinking about the next meal, or whether we should go to the beach or stay beside the pool.

A beached whale! Reality hits when you see yourself in a photo!
St Clair beach. Difficult to find a spot to sit on, and difficult to walk to the water. People watching is fun though.
A visit to Ikea! It is important to get your Ikea fix for the month, even in the south of France. We are aiming to fully furnish our caravan with Ikea fittings! Ikea is just as manic and punishing as it is in the UK.
At the fireworks.
At the bar in Le Lavandou. Coffee only!
The beach this afternoon, I think!

Spiders

Spiders appear to be everywhere! I can feel them crawling on me. A leaf touching my skin, the bottom of trousers flapping against my ankles, my hair moving against my neck, and I am sure that it is one of 'them'.

The current problem with spiders began when I was here six weeks ago. First I thought that all the egg shells under the vents were spider eggs so I looked everywhere for the baby spiders. They were in fact wasp egg shells as there were old nests in the vents. Walter got bitten by a small spider. Aaron and Kylie found an enormous spider in their tent, plus quite a few cicadas and a giant beetle. Cicadas and beetles don't really count I know. Kylie thought she had been bitten on the leg three or four times by spiders. Finally Aaron took a very large black spider back to Holland in his suitcase, not on purpose I might add.

Once back in the UK I was sure we had spiders running around everywhere. Although I constantly looked for them I could not find any but I was sure they were lurking somewhere there. Then one morning as I was lying reading the news on my BlackBerry I turned my head to see a large spider crawling over my shoulder. At last my fears were realised. I flung myself out of bed, cup of tea going everywhere, to find it was the tiniest little spider which must have been magnified by my glasses.

I know I have an irrational fear of spiders, developed I am sure, from my sister’s fear of spiders.

Over the years I have come face to face with some beauties too. Huntsman spiders in Australia, harmless but enormous. They sit on tents, in corners of rooms and once when we were camping you had a choice of either using the long drop toilet with spiders or the long drop toilet with flies. Some choice. Then there were the Singapore equivalent of the Huntsman spiders. They came inside when it rained, which was on most days and were here one minute and gone the next – but where to was the question. Ugh!

I have screamed when I have encountered spiders, I have become hysterical, I have ripped off my T shirt in front of guests (I thought there was a spider on my back), I have fallen off my bike and badly grazed my knees because where was a big black spider hanging from the seat, I have put my hand under the pillow and pulled out a spider (also big and black), I even knocked a red back spider off my mother’s leg, which was very brave, but then I did not want her to get bitten.

I always check under the toilet seat in outdoor toilets in Australia. I believe that most redback spider bites are on people’s backsides because they sit on them.

And just to prove that I am sure the spiders are lurking around waiting to jump out at me, Donna was bitten by a spider as she cleaned the caravan. As I write this I keep checking around me. Paranoia!

Manjastre revisited.

Here we are again, four weeks later, glamping (glamorous camping) in Manjastre. We like to think we are camping but in fact, we are not roughing it at all, as we have all the mod cons in our touring caravan (which never leaves the campsite as it is stored when we do not use it). We are here with Donna, Scott (who we collected from Nice Airport this morning) and Lucy. No chasing after an 18 month old toddler this time. In July this kept me very fit and ensured that I did not put weight on. Instead I must go for a run each morning and I know that Donna will make sure that I get out of bed early each morning for the run and swim!

The trip down was very good, mainly due to getting out of bed very early and on the road by 4.30 a.m. This meant we avoided the worst of the traffic jams. Our badge now works beautifully, although I still had it checked at one of the services. The cause of our malfunctioning badge was the special windscreen on our car. It blocked the signal transmission. Now the front passenger holds the badge out of the side window and, hey presto, the green light comes on and through we go, bypassing all the poor people queued up at the tolls.
We stopped at the mushroom park on the way down. The concrete mushroom park! A favourite stop for the children.
Walter, Donna and Lucy resting in the sunshine yesterday.
A glamorous pair!
A little game of badminton, in between setting up the camp site.

The only incident so far occurred when Donna went to the pool for the first time. She went through the regulation shower, walked tall and held her stomach in as she went past the handsome lifeguard and the men lying on the sun loungers. Then discovered once she got in the water that her bikini bottom was inside out! Embarrassing!

The Hop Farm

Yesterday, I took Lucy, Jackson and Isabel to the Hop Farm, in Paddock Wood, which is a 40 minute drive south from our house. The farm was once a large hop producing property, but is now a theme type park, with many activities and historical displays in and around the old buildings. A mix match of ideas, which I found disconcerting but the children loved the place.

A view of the old Oast houses, where the hops were once dried. Now they hold all the mismatch of ideas and displays that are part of The Hop Farm.
There was a very large waxwork display. Henry together with his six wives.

The spooky Michael Jackson waxwork display. Lucy and Jackson feeling scared!

Once the entry fee was paid, all the rides were free. They loved the merry-go-round.

Isabel jumping high on the trampoline.

Lucy's body disappeared in the Magic House!In the Magic House. I held the camera upside down but it all went wrong!

We finished off the day with a meal at Pizza Hut.

Vehicle mishaps continued

I am pleased to say that I have not reversed into anyone else! And I am relieved to know that I am not the only person who has had a few mishaps when reversing or parking cars!

However, I will not recount all the other stories I have heard, for fear that I may lose my friends and upset my family. Still I cannot resist telling you about Walter's mishaps with motorhomes. He has given permission!

Our first motorhome was a left hand drive Chausson. Not an easy vehicle to manoeuvre, I might add.

On our first trip out, Walter parked the van in a carpark in Canterbury, beside a small wooden post. But he forgot about the post when he drove off and turned the wheel on the van too sharply so that the post went into the front left door. The door was pushed in so much we could not open it! He followed this up 18 months later, when leaving a carpark, by turning the wheel again too sharply. This time the gate post gauged a strip out of the left side of the van. As we were leaving to go on holiday very soon afterwards, he had to put tape over the strip. It was very noticeable, and caused many a stare from people in other vehicles. Sympathetic stares, I hope!

When we came back from holidays, Walter had the van repaired and we bought a right hand drive van, which has been damaged but that was through an elderly lady in Germany reversing her car into the back of our van. The poor lady was very shaken, and the fact that the accident happened in front of two policemen, did not help her. I forgot to say that Walter reversed into a post, but this was due to me not giving clear directions when he was reversing the van.

The funniest mishap though was in NZ when we hired a long camper van. Walter turned the wheel (yet again) too sharply and the back of the van got caught on the cement pavement. It would not go forward or backward. Panic! A very elderly and overweight man had to help me lift the van up so that Walter could reverse the van back off the footpath. A bolt came off the water tank, which a helpful man in a garage fixed up with a piece of wire. The elderly overweight man did not have a heart attack thank goodness. A very deep scratch in the concrete marked the spot, forever!

I have a clean history with motor homes, so far!

Blackberrying

The elusive blackberries, which I know are regarded as weeds in NZ and Australia. But here they grow freely in hedgerows, in woods and on any vacant land around.

Now that I no longer have an allotment, I have no access to the beautiful blackberries that grew there. They surrounded two sides of my allotment and threatened to overtake it at times but the blackberries were delicious.

Then I remembered the numerous blackberries that grew in the reserve at Crockenhill when I lived there 19 years ago. So I thought a visit to the reserve would tell me if they still exist, and they do, in abundance.

I also found that much landscaping and development had also occurred and it is now a really delightful park.

With a lovely big playground, seating and paths galore.And ramps and small hills which are suited for the younger BMX bikers. Lucy, Jackson and Isabel enjoyed playing, while I picked the blackberries. I know they should have been helping, but the thought of kitting them out in blackberry proof clothes required too much organisation. However they did try a few blackberries, with mixed reactions.