Taussant (Day 2)

As the aire slowly came to life this morning John cast a critical eye over our neighbours. That man's just emptied his waste water into the same watering can he's now using for his fresh water! Look at that woman brushing that dog. I hope she's not going to brush her hair with that brush after. Listen to those women talking, they're like a flock of chickens. I've seen it all now.

A dog in a rucksack. They're taking it with them on the scooter. How's the wife going to fit on? Leave the neighbours alone. You tell him Marge. 

The sun out, we packed some food for lunch and set out. Today is Good Friday, hot cross bun anyone? We knew we had no chance of finding one here. First stop the tourist office to pick up a map.

Then we cycled along the cycle path to Biganos. By ten to one we still hadn't found anywhere to buy a baguette. Panic! Then the flashing neon sign of a boulangerie caught our eye. Just in the nick of time. The bakery was about to close for lunch. 

Our destination was the Port of Biganos. Not a port as such, but a small tidal inlet with pretty huts surrounded by nature. It proved to be a popular lunch spot. All the picnic tables were occupied so we sat at a bench in the dappled shade.  We stayed a couple of hours at the port, reading and people watching. The temperature was 24 c. Beautiful. More weather like this please. 

Cycling back to Taussant we managed to become a little lost. But it didn't matter, we knew we were heading in the right direction. By the time we were reunited with Marge we'd clocked up around thirty miles since leaving. Not bad for a couple of oldies! 

Most of the vans at the aire were with us last night. Two new arrivals came in early evening. The first a huge six-wheeler, described by one of the French women as an auto bus. The wife did the usual standing behind the van whilst her husband tried hard not to kill her. If he'd hit her all would probably have been well. The van would probably have bounced off her huge pneumatic breasts. The second arrival, a silly old git who didn't have a clue how to drive his large van reversed in next to us almost taking Marge out. Everyone watching was aghast. We were horrified. Angela is convinced he'll catch his back end on Marge when he swings out to leave tomorrow, so we might have to stick around a while. 

As another day comes to an end, we watched the sun with a strange bank of sea fog in front of it sink. Our trip is like an hour glass. The sand trickling at first and then slipping away as our journey nears its end. Ten days to go Marge and lots still to do and see.