May 21st
After weeks of careful planning, scouring over maps, comparing sites and making decisions the day has finally arrived. So the plan is we, that is Darling Husband, Careful Wife and The Dog, will set off for France with the caravan using Eurotunnel This is a first for us, in the past we’ve gone by ferry but following the maxim, you’re never to old to learn, we decide to do something different - and anyway we got the crossing with Tesco vouchers so really it’s free!
Our booking is for the 18.20 crossing but decide it would be better to arrive early and hope to get transferred to an earlier crossing. With this is mind we’ve spent two days organising and packing the van so we can get an early start on the four hour journey to Folkestone. With three passports in hand we set off at 10 am and we’re making good progress when we hear on the radio that French fishermen are blockading the French ports and all ferries have been cancelled till Friday. Today is Wednesday so we feel pleased – and a bit smug – that we’re going through the Tunnel so it won’t affect us.
Then we hear the M20 is closed between junctions 7 and 8 for Operation Stack. We’ve heard of Operation Stack but surely they don’t really close all the motorway. Yes, they do. We take a detour around the villages of Kent but still manage to arrive at the Eurotunnel terminal by 14.55. Over three hours early so we’re hoping we can be on our way south by mid afternoon. We check in and we’re allocated our crossing - at 18.20. So much for our plans. All possible traffic has transferred to the tunnel so all the trains are full; we have three hours to wait at the terminal.
At least we can wait in the comfort of the van. I decide to have a nap. The Dog has other plans. She doesn’t look well. She’s hyperventilating, her eyes are pink and she’s panting madly. I spray her body with water and bathe her head hoping this will cool her down while I worry about how to find a vet in the terminal. Is there a way to get out that doesn’t involve travelling to France? DH goes off for a stroll, there are shops in the terminal, he’s spotted Dixons.
The Dog wants to go out so Dog and I go out. The Dog wants to go in so Dog and I go in. After about an hour The Dog seems happier, she’s stopped panting and hyperventilating and settles down for a sleep. DH comes back from the shops. We speculate about The Dog. Is she constipated? No. Is it a return of her meningitis problem from Christmas? We hope not! She seems better so we heed the call and join the queue to get on the train.
The train is late leaving so we don’t arrive in France till after 8pm. No formalities, DH drives us off the train and on to the road to the camp site. I spray The Dog with water to cool her down. She starts panting again. Have I poisoned her? Is it the Dog Spray or have I somehow mixed it up with the weedkiller spray? I taste it, it tastes odd but I don’t start panting. Instead I start looking for signs that say vet. We get to the site before I find a vet. The Dog jumps out the car and seems to be improving. Has she started to suffer from travel sickness? We travelled two thousand miles with her last summer and she fine so surely not. We decide to spend two nights on site to give The Dog a chance to recover.
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Wednesday May 21st
After weeks of careful planning, scouring over maps, comparing sites and making decisions the day has finally arrived. So the plan is we, that is Darling Husband, Careful Wife and The Dog, will set off for France with the caravan using Eurotunnel This is a first for us, in the past we’ve gone by ferry but following the maxim, you’re never to old to learn, we decide to do something different - and anyway we got the crossing with Tesco vouchers so really it’s free!
Our booking is for the 18.20 crossing but decide it would be better to arrive early and hope to get transferred to an earlier crossing. With this is mind we’ve spent two days organising and packing the van so we can get an early start on the four hour journey to Folkestone. With three passports in hand we set off at 10 am and we’re making good progress when we hear on the radio that French fishermen are blockading the French ports and all ferries have been cancelled till Friday. Today is Wednesday so we feel pleased – and a bit smug – that we’re going through the Tunnel so it won’t affect us.
Then we hear the M20 is closed between junctions 7 and 8 for Operation Stack. We’ve heard of Operation Stack but surely they don’t really close all the motorway. Yes, they do. We take a detour around the villages of Kent but still manage to arrive at the Eurotunnel terminal by 14.55. Over three hours early so we’re hoping we can be on our way south by mid afternoon. We check in and we’re allocated our crossing - at 18.20. So much for our plans. All possible traffic has transferred to the tunnel so all the trains are full; we have three hours to wait at the terminal.
At least we can wait in the comfort of the van. I decide to have a nap. The Dog has other plans. She doesn’t look well. She’s hyperventilating, her eyes are pink and she’s panting madly. I spray her body with water and bathe her head hoping this will cool her down while I worry about how to find a vet in the terminal. Is there a way to get out that doesn’t involve travelling to France? DH goes off for a stroll, there are shops in the terminal, he’s spotted Dixons.
The Dog wants to go out so Dog and I go out. The Dog wants to go in so Dog and I go in. After about an hour The Dog seems happier, she’s stopped panting and hyperventilating and settles down for a sleep. DH comes back from the shops. We speculate about The Dog. Is she constipated? No. Is it a return of her meningitis problem from Christmas? We hope not! She seems better so we heed the call and join the queue to get on the train.
The train is late leaving so we don’t arrive in France till after 8pm. No formalities, DH drives us off the train and on to the road to the camp site. I spray The Dog with water to cool her down. She starts panting again. Have I poisoned her? Is it the Dog Spray or have I somehow mixed it up with the weedkiller spray? I taste it, it tastes odd but I don’t start panting. Instead I start looking for signs that say vet. We get to the site before I find a vet. The Dog jumps out the car and seems to be improving. Has she started to suffer from travel sickness? We travelled two thousand miles with her last summer and she fine so surely not. We decide to spend two nights on site to give The Dog a chance to recover.
Our booking is for the 18.20 crossing but decide it would be better to arrive early and hope to get transferred to an earlier crossing. With this is mind we’ve spent two days organising and packing the van so we can get an early start on the four hour journey to Folkestone. With three passports in hand we set off at 10 am and we’re making good progress when we hear on the radio that French fishermen are blockading the French ports and all ferries have been cancelled till Friday. Today is Wednesday so we feel pleased – and a bit smug – that we’re going through the Tunnel so it won’t affect us.
Then we hear the M20 is closed between junctions 7 and 8 for Operation Stack. We’ve heard of Operation Stack but surely they don’t really close all the motorway. Yes, they do. We take a detour around the villages of Kent but still manage to arrive at the Eurotunnel terminal by 14.55. Over three hours early so we’re hoping we can be on our way south by mid afternoon. We check in and we’re allocated our crossing - at 18.20. So much for our plans. All possible traffic has transferred to the tunnel so all the trains are full; we have three hours to wait at the terminal.
At least we can wait in the comfort of the van. I decide to have a nap. The Dog has other plans. She doesn’t look well. She’s hyperventilating, her eyes are pink and she’s panting madly. I spray her body with water and bathe her head hoping this will cool her down while I worry about how to find a vet in the terminal. Is there a way to get out that doesn’t involve travelling to France? DH goes off for a stroll, there are shops in the terminal, he’s spotted Dixons.
The Dog wants to go out so Dog and I go out. The Dog wants to go in so Dog and I go in. After about an hour The Dog seems happier, she’s stopped panting and hyperventilating and settles down for a sleep. DH comes back from the shops. We speculate about The Dog. Is she constipated? No. Is it a return of her meningitis problem from Christmas? We hope not! She seems better so we heed the call and join the queue to get on the train.
The train is late leaving so we don’t arrive in France till after 8pm. No formalities, DH drives us off the train and on to the road to the camp site. I spray The Dog with water to cool her down. She starts panting again. Have I poisoned her? Is it the Dog Spray or have I somehow mixed it up with the weedkiller spray? I taste it, it tastes odd but I don’t start panting. Instead I start looking for signs that say vet. We get to the site before I find a vet. The Dog jumps out the car and seems to be improving. Has she started to suffer from travel sickness? We travelled two thousand miles with her last summer and she fine so surely not. We decide to spend two nights on site to give The Dog a chance to recover.
Sunday 25th May
I decide I am having a lie in… I still manage to wake up at 7am UK time but that’s a more respectable 8am here. That despite two nocturnal excursions when The Dog woke me to let me know she wanted to go outside. Note the “wanted”, this is not “needed,” at home she quite happily goes all night without going out but here it’s easy for her to wake me – she stands on my chest and licks my face – and she likes to have a sniff around outside in the dark.
After getting up and getting dressed we set off in search of fuel. After our little accident two years ago DH prefers to get his fuel when the van isn’t on the back of the car and lots of places close on Sundays. We are lucky, Ecomarche is open until midday so we manage to fill up with enough diesel – noww 1.45 a litre- to get us to our next destination, Le Paradis in the Dordogne. DH waits in the car with The Dog while I go into the supermarket, returning shortly afterwards with a baguette, some potatoes and a rose! Today is Mothers Day and all likely looking customers get roses. A nice touch.
Back at the campsite everyone is up and about – all four of them. The sun is shining and it looks set to be a nice day. I am tempted to stay but preparations for departure are well underway so the plan is to drive down to the Dordogne at a leisurely pace. I chat to Harry who has caravanned for forty years but has had a motorhome for the past fifteen years. I give my rose to Dorothy. Harry tells me she has Alzheimers but they still manage to spend most of the winter in Spain. They have been in France since March and will head for home after a visit to the vet in Chateauponsac tomorrow with their little dog. Harry tells me last year he paid only 19€ for treatment involving two visits, tablets, two injections and the necessary treatment to allow their dog to return home. A bargain! We’re still packing up when Harry and Dorothy set off for the day on their motorbike. Harry is driving, Dorothy is on the back and their dog is in a pet carrier tied on behind. They are eighty and they will be back in September to visit Italy.
The other couple will stay till their car is mended but the Renault garage is having a few days holiday. They are looking for a home in France. He is impressed by the local house prices having spoken to someone who paid £80,000 for a “maison de maitre” last October. So if the garage is closed for much longer they could end up living in Chateauponsac.
For us it’s back to the N20 and south past Limoges. Very pretty scenery, lots of Limousin cattle and the occasional downpour. As we near the Dordogne the showers are more frequent and heavier. We pass rivers which are brown with mud from recent rain. We arrive at Le Paradis in torrential rain. We stay in the car hoping the rain will ease but eventually I have to get out to do the checking in. I’m not sure when it happened but this task always falls to me now.
Madame speaks English and tells me we can pitch anywhere, except in the flooded sections. She gives me a map of the site. Half the pitches are crossed out, they are flooded. The map also contains information on what to do in the event of a flood…leave everything except your money and your passport and make your way out on foot. Auspicious or what! She tells me that Forsythia is not flooded and no 11 will suit us so I go back to tell DH and The Dog where we are going. We go nowhere, we stay in the car waiting for the rain to ease. After half an hour we decide to investigate Forsythia no 11.
We drive through what seems to be a deserted and flooded site till we get to Forsythia. People are everywhere. They have waterproofs, Wellingtons and golf umbrellas; they seem cheerful and friendly but we stay in the car. The rain is still torrential. Eventually DH decided to go in the van for his wet weather gear. I don’t do wet weather so I don’t have wet weather gear. The Dog and I stay in the car while DH splashes about deciding where to put the van. Thank goodness for caravan movers. Once the van is positioned The Dog and I run from the car through the puddles and into the van. Poor DH stays outside doing essential things with legs and such till it is too wet to do anymore and he comes inside. The path we drove down shortly before is gone, now we are surrounded by a muddy brown stream. People are out poking in the stream quizzically. Where has the drain gone?
We are wet but inside the van. We have no electricity yet and no gas so no heating and no hot drinks. We have a glass of whisky, I wrap up in a blanket and go to sleep.
After getting up and getting dressed we set off in search of fuel. After our little accident two years ago DH prefers to get his fuel when the van isn’t on the back of the car and lots of places close on Sundays. We are lucky, Ecomarche is open until midday so we manage to fill up with enough diesel – noww 1.45 a litre- to get us to our next destination, Le Paradis in the Dordogne. DH waits in the car with The Dog while I go into the supermarket, returning shortly afterwards with a baguette, some potatoes and a rose! Today is Mothers Day and all likely looking customers get roses. A nice touch.
Back at the campsite everyone is up and about – all four of them. The sun is shining and it looks set to be a nice day. I am tempted to stay but preparations for departure are well underway so the plan is to drive down to the Dordogne at a leisurely pace. I chat to Harry who has caravanned for forty years but has had a motorhome for the past fifteen years. I give my rose to Dorothy. Harry tells me she has Alzheimers but they still manage to spend most of the winter in Spain. They have been in France since March and will head for home after a visit to the vet in Chateauponsac tomorrow with their little dog. Harry tells me last year he paid only 19€ for treatment involving two visits, tablets, two injections and the necessary treatment to allow their dog to return home. A bargain! We’re still packing up when Harry and Dorothy set off for the day on their motorbike. Harry is driving, Dorothy is on the back and their dog is in a pet carrier tied on behind. They are eighty and they will be back in September to visit Italy.
The other couple will stay till their car is mended but the Renault garage is having a few days holiday. They are looking for a home in France. He is impressed by the local house prices having spoken to someone who paid £80,000 for a “maison de maitre” last October. So if the garage is closed for much longer they could end up living in Chateauponsac.
For us it’s back to the N20 and south past Limoges. Very pretty scenery, lots of Limousin cattle and the occasional downpour. As we near the Dordogne the showers are more frequent and heavier. We pass rivers which are brown with mud from recent rain. We arrive at Le Paradis in torrential rain. We stay in the car hoping the rain will ease but eventually I have to get out to do the checking in. I’m not sure when it happened but this task always falls to me now.
Madame speaks English and tells me we can pitch anywhere, except in the flooded sections. She gives me a map of the site. Half the pitches are crossed out, they are flooded. The map also contains information on what to do in the event of a flood…leave everything except your money and your passport and make your way out on foot. Auspicious or what! She tells me that Forsythia is not flooded and no 11 will suit us so I go back to tell DH and The Dog where we are going. We go nowhere, we stay in the car waiting for the rain to ease. After half an hour we decide to investigate Forsythia no 11.
We drive through what seems to be a deserted and flooded site till we get to Forsythia. People are everywhere. They have waterproofs, Wellingtons and golf umbrellas; they seem cheerful and friendly but we stay in the car. The rain is still torrential. Eventually DH decided to go in the van for his wet weather gear. I don’t do wet weather so I don’t have wet weather gear. The Dog and I stay in the car while DH splashes about deciding where to put the van. Thank goodness for caravan movers. Once the van is positioned The Dog and I run from the car through the puddles and into the van. Poor DH stays outside doing essential things with legs and such till it is too wet to do anymore and he comes inside. The path we drove down shortly before is gone, now we are surrounded by a muddy brown stream. People are out poking in the stream quizzically. Where has the drain gone?
We are wet but inside the van. We have no electricity yet and no gas so no heating and no hot drinks. We have a glass of whisky, I wrap up in a blanket and go to sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)