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Calais
The terminal Suzy was gearing herself to come home. Not a pretty sight!!! We are all truly miserable and wish our holiday could go on forever. There is nothing worse than coming home knowing that the adventure for this time is over. We woke up early with the plan of unplugging Suzy from the electrics and moving the last few hours to our last stop at Guines near to Calais. The roads were fairly empty, the hedgerows looked distinctly boring. All those lovely flowers that graced the roadside in Croatia and Italy had all gone and all you could see for miles was green. And of course the odd field of yellow oilseed rape. A pretty plant but what a stink of cabbage when it goes over.
We arrived at Guines Le Bien Assise in the early afternoon. Reception was open but empty. The young receptionist had taken off in a golf buggy to take a horse box - yes a horse box to its resting place for the night. You normally expect caravans and motorhomes here but a horse box. Not the usual mode of transport. She arrived back and I paid over our 17euro and few odd cents for the
Calais
The terminal night. I often wonder why we pay tourist tax at some campsites and not at others. The receptionist then got back in her golf buggy and directed us to our plot for the night. It was a reasonable size and quite dry however it was in the shade and there were large trees overhanging it. We pondered for a while and decided that we didnt like it much. Other people were sunbathing in the warm sunny afternoon and we were stuck on the shadiest pitch you could ever imagine. On top of that we wanted to try Kathrein out as we were due to take her to Daventry to have her taken off and sent back to Germany. As she had behaved herself and worked every time we toyed with the idea of not bothering and just going straight home. As long as she worked and she wasnt going to work here because of the tall trees. So it was back to the reception. After a bit of discussion I was again taken in a buggy to find another plot. Not that there were many as it was Half term in Britain and it seemed the world and his dog
Calais
On the way to the train were here for the week. We were given another plot, this time in the sunnier spot and without the tall trees so we took it and moved Suzy into it for the night.
The new plot was near the toilets . Sometimes a good idea and others not such a good one. it was close to a line of bungalows and also near to the camping tents or perhaps they should be called glamping tents as they had iron beds in them and every luxury you could wish for. We plugged in, tried Kathrein who worked and sat out talking to an elderly guy who was over with his granddaughter. It seemed he came every year and went to the same plot. He liked the weather ,the swimming pool on site and the facilities . I didnt try the pool this time - too many bodies.
I had hoped to go for a meal but the restaurant does not open on a Monday so we had to suffer the fast food joint. Two hamburgers and two apple tarts. Not exactly haute cuisine. There was a big notice on the counter advising buyers that if they wanted fast food
they were in the right place. If they wanted good food they were not.
We didnt sleep well it was rather noisy . We probably wont use it again. We woke early and unplugged Suzy again and set off in the direction of CAlais. Surprise Surprise the road was barred. I swear the same sign Route Baree was in the same place this year as it was last September. We arrived at the train terminal hoping to catch the earlier train which would be about 2 hours earlier than planned. However the detour had taken us a little longer to arrive. The terminal beeped at us hello Mr Jones confirm who you are. Brilliant I thought as i got out and punched a confirmation in that we were indeed the Jones's . It offered me the same train we had booked on or one half an hour earlier. As this was the only choice and cost no more I punched in I was happy to take the earlier train and it burped out the ticket. We drove to the desk where our passports would be checked and accidently parked right up to the bus in front of us. This
was full of french schoolchildren with their teachers heading for England. Out of the office came a rather irate man. Did we realise we had parked in a yellow box? No we didnt ! Its in English overhead on the gantry. Oh dear we didnt see it or words to that effect. He took the huff and threatened to keep us half an hour checking Suzy. As I didnt fancy dirty underclothes strewn all over the terminal and having someone checking my smalls I smiled sweetly, apologised and hoped for the best. He grumped off leaving us to have our passports checked and to move on to park fermee to wait for our call.
We spent half an hour drinking awful tea in a paper cup and eating a croissant. I bought two cream slices to bring home. Yummy. And so we waited for our train.
Loading was uneventful and the train was fairly empty. We arrived to a wet and miserable Kent within 40 minutes. It poured as we drove up the motorway through Kent. Roadworks were creating havoc with queues miles long. A few miles forward and the overhead gantries warned of more queues and the
Sion
I want to go away again !!! speed was dropped from 60 to 50 and then from 50 to 40. It was hell. The only thing that enlivened it was watching the planes landing at Heathrow.
North to Oxford Services and a quick stop in the rain for a coffee. And around Birmingham with all its road works until eventually we arrived home. All that is left to do is work out how far we travelled in our 33 day trip, how much the fuel cost and the work out the costs of camping. And to dream of our next adventure .
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
A sad day
The cure is to start thinking about and planning an adventure....even if it is a weekend.