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Published: October 24th 2015
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Flushed with the success of our adventures in Collioure, we approached the guru Gee and Wendy of The Valley, to see if they knew of a site where we might be based in Northern Spain. We did not ask for much, just that it had to be on the coast, around 30 km from Girona airport and be in a town called Calonge – unsurprisingly, they knew just the perfect site.
Now, some of you dear readers may be asking why we were so specific in our request. The answer is simple, there was an upcoming birthday to be celebrated and the birthday girl to be had invited friends to fly out to celebrate with her in Calonge. There were a few clues there, to point out that it was not the birthday of Cusco the Chief Spaniel nor your correspondent. It was to be Wendy the Navigator’s 50
th !!!! With this is mind, we scaled the Pyrenees (I do not see why these mountaineer chaps make such a fuss, you just follow the motorway) and made our way to the Costa Brava and the Campsite International.
This was the first time your correspondent had ventured to this part
of Spain, and it would be fair to say it was with a tinge of trepidation. This coast has not always been portrayed well in the British press, but all I can say is that it is quite beautiful. Yes, there are big towns with big buildings and skyscraper hotels and wall to wall bars, but the areas between them are stunning. Unspoilt beaches and coves and delightful, but strenuous coastal paths.
Due to Wendy having her birthday in October, we were in off season at the site. This puts added pressure on me as there are many pitches to choose from. It is the dreaded empty car park syndrome. Where to park??? Wendy will tell you this usually means me trying several parking spaces before settling on the one the furthest away from the supermarket entrance. While she went to check in (and greeted like royalty as advanced notice had been given of her big birthday, which would be held in the camp restaurant ) , Cusco and I wandered the grounds inspecting pitches. The deciding factor was a big hill, so parking at the bottom of it was top priority.
Wendy was told that James the
restaurant Manager would meet her at 7pm, to discuss the menu for her birthday dinner. In order not to be rude, we went to see him at that very time accompanied by John and Wendy for they had travelled down to spend a few days in the sun. They had been to this site several times and knew James and his restaurant well. It has to be pointed out that this was not a camp restaurant, it was a restaurant that was situated in the camp. Over drinks James discussed the menu with us and in my best Spanish/French/English amalgamation, I managed to persuade him that we would leave it all up to him, thus absolving myself from any responsibility.
The plan was to have drinks on the terrace, before sitting down for meal. Cava was to be the preferred drink, so I asked that there should be two bottles per guest. I thought that was being conservative, but Wendy quickly pointed out that two glasses per guest would be ample. Obviously, it was not going to be that sort of a birthday. The next night we ate with John and Wendy in the restaurant, as a sort of
trial run. Quickly we realised that once more, The Valley people had done us proud with their recommendation. On a table festooned with reminders of her age, the food was amazing.
What else could we need, your correspondent mulled in a mullish manner. Guests!!!! We needed guests!!! I volunteered to go into town, go round the bars and rustle up some volunteers to join us, but Wendy said no – she had it under control. John and Wendy left on Tuesday, and a few hours later, Les and Sylvia of Scarborough fame arrived with caravan and Cusco’s friend Myone. A few pleasant days were spent exploring the town and watching the dogs run around the beach (Cusco suddenly decided he was an expert sea swimmer after the ball was thrown too far out for Myone – Les couldn’t reach it and just when we thought we had lost it, Cusco was swimming past us all with his head held high aiming towards Africa) and relaxing. With the strain and stress of being married to a near 50 year old, your correspondent thought he should have a beer or two – just for medicinal purposes you understand.
Then, it
was Friday. Guests were to arrive. Cusco and myself were showered, groomed and told to be on best behaviour. The omens were good. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was blue and the beer was cold – these must be good guests. And, dear readers, indeed they were. From the frozen north of Cumbria arrived Sheila, wrapped in furs and looking perplexed by the big yellow thing in the sky. From deepest Avon arrived Rachel, already looking for places to run and swim and cycle – a triathlete who knows no bounds. From Staffordshire arrived a gaggle of Gledhills. Liz and Tim and daughter Emily, all three with the glint of party in their eyes. Tim promised to be invaluable on the campsite as he announced he was fluent in German, and there were many on the campsite. Worcestershire provided Liz and Ben, with her wicked laugh and his appreciation of good music. The gang was here, so let’s party.
The evening consisted of barbecue – hats off to Les for great cooking – and lots of talking laughing, beer, wine ( mineral water for triathlete and Sheila of the north ) and rum for Liz, to remind
her of South American days when we drank it constantly. We invited our German neighbours over for a drink and this would be Tim’s chance to interpret using his fluent German. Perhaps this would be a good place to skip over what happened next – but bugger that. Tim, after being prodded and prompted, announced that the only German he knew was “Borussia Monchengladbach”!!!!! Our German friends happily pointed out that they were from Monchengladbach and Tim’s misery was compounded. Your correspondent gave him a beer for trying.
Saturday arrived happy and sunny and with a rum induced hangover for Liz. The big day !!!! W awoke to a big bag of cards and presents and to Rachel and Sheila hanging balloons and banners around Claude. Wendy opened a few and then had breakfast keeping more for later, for there was a trip to the beach in order!!! And that dear readers is how the day was spent before the evening meal. Sunbathing, swimming, talking and eating – Wendy announced it was exactly how she had hoped her 50
th would be!!!
After a brief respite, the glad rags were put on and the terrace was the place to
be!! Overlooking the med, with the evening sun warming us, Cava was presented and a wonderful discovery named Tisana. This was in effect Sangria, but rather than red wine, a cava is used and was greatly appreciated by all and even by sundry. James appeared and summoned us to the restaurant for the birthday meal, and what a meal it was. I could describe in detail what everyone had, but I have forgotten apart from my own hake and chorizo which was delicious. The birthday girl had veal shank which is still talked about to this day. What a great night was had by all. Thankfully Tim was on hand to translate for any Dutch, Italian or French travellers. We all went to bed very happy. Not all in the same bed by the way, as I said previously, it wasn’t that sort of party.
By 9am on Sunday, the Gledhills had departed, Sheila the northerner and Rachel the triathlete had ran the whole Iberian coastline and people were asking what would happen next. Well, funnily enough, even that had been arranged. In the seaside town of San Antoni, a fish restaurant had been booked for lunch, so we
all made our merry way towards it and the feeding began again. The food was so fresh, it felt like somebody (not Cusco) had just swam into the sea, grabbed what we wanted and cooked it. Les and Sylvia had a huge sea bass baked in several kilos of salt and it tasted divine. The meal was the perfect end to a 50
th birthday. The big problem is of course your correspondent’s – how am I going to better that for her 60
th?
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