A German hire van containing a family of four, God that must be cramped, prepared to leave. It had been sighted opposite us next to the Eriba caravan. With less sun each day, our leisure battery which relies on solar isn't topping up quite as much as we'd like, and the pitch opposite not only has a great view, it has more sun. So we've arranged to move. Angela is really unwell. All night she has been suffering with abdominal pain and didn't rise until lunchtime. She has a terrible upset stomach, we know that you don't really need to know the details, but the boxio has taken a hammering. We think she probably picked a bug up on the public transport we've been using or at one of the public toilets, which are nearly always disgusting. We've observed that not a lot of hand washing takes place on the campsite, and obviously we do and always use hand sanitiser.
The afternoon was therefore spent reading and resting. She felt like the walking dead. The Jesus sticker on the caravan next to us began to concern her. Life in France was taking a turn for the worse. Still no gas struts by the way.
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