Charm fail 2 occurs as we
stop at the boulangerie for breakfast supplies. A polite enquiry as to
whether there is a supermarket nearby is
greeted by a fiercely abrupt and perfect ‘Non’, as only the truly miserable
French person can deliver. Within two minutes of leaving the Boulangerie we
have passed one supermarket and have
parked up in the second one. Amused and offended, the only response is a
perfectly delivered Gallic shrug. What can you do?
As we wind our way south east, it’s really noticeable how the
scenery is beginning to change. The flatlands are now most definitely behind
us, winding undulating roads greet us, lush wooded countryside much like
England (but without the rain/ shit drivers/speed cameras/potholes – delete as
appropriate). So rural is this neck of
the woods we see a sign warning us of bandits – go figure! To be fair it does
remind me of one of those American road trip movies where you travel through
remote towns, tumble weed abound and populated by folks a few chromosome
thingies short.
Moo has sense of humour failure today. The more time I spend with him
I realise that should he be human there
would be a large dose of the ghey and a high possibility of handing in his man
card. What bothers him I wonder – perhaps it’s a dogging thing?? All becomes clear later on when Moo is sick.
It’s Moo shab.
Louhans itself is a sweet riverside town. The town centre, with a
wide slow meandering river has old beamed architecture of the type we saw in
Troyes – but in miniature. We actually manage to find the camping car area
after a visit to the Tourist office. Noush is proud (and rightly so) that the
assistant behind the desk complements her on her French.
The camping area is idyllic. Right next to the river on an oval
arrangement which has capacity for about 20 campers. I’m starting to notice
some patterns of behaviour amongst fellow camper van types (FCVT). The blokes
have this willy waving neanderthal thing for chocks (the plastic cheese shaped
things you stick under the wheel to keep the van level). Oddly, FCVT use the chock
thingies even when the ground is totally level. Why is this and what does it
mean? Also, they stand next to their van and survey other FCVTs (hands on hips,
belly out) and assume a position and attitude similar to an ancient warrior
having slain his enemy. Should I purchase some of these chock thingies and get
involved? Feel baffled and not with the ‘in’ crowd. Hummph.
The weather is epically hot. You simply can’t move without
dripping. I find myself fantasising about rain and cloud. Noush decides to cut
my hair as it’s getting out of control (now I feel like a proper camper). My
wish for rain is met. (Perhaps the gods disproved of my new hair) and the
heavens open. Thunder, lightning, serious storm. Once clear we nip into town to
a cool little bar for a pression or two. The storm hasn’t cleared the weather
which is so close it envelopes you. Tiredness brings on an early night.