Port du Segala, France

O.K. Marge, what are your plans for today? It would be quite considerate of you if you didn't play up, you're starting to put a real damper on our holiday. Last night it was cold. Even Angela was cold, which is unusual. We sympathised with the French couple who'd spent the night in a small tent who were now wrapped in all their warm clothes cooking breakfast on a nearby bench table. Poor sods. Too think we have also camped out in France at this time of the year, for fun. John cooked a mushroom omelette, but hey, what are the French preparing. Oh, a vegetable omelette. Who eats courgette for breakfast? We made a decision to carry on driving south. John was confidant all would be alright. Hear that Marge! We really wanted to return to the Med and see the pink flamingo's. We have twenty six days of our holiday left, and need to make everyday now count. Time to stand up to Marge, and tell her we wont tolerate anymore of her antics. We needed to choose our onward route very carefully. No more hills.

So we trundled slowly along quieter roads to the outskirts of Toulouse where we had planned to stop at yet another Norauto store to purchase coolant, hose clips and a 8 mm socket. Just in case. The weather is warmer again now. This afternoon a comfortable 22 c. A cloudless seamless blue sky lifted our spirits. If it wasn't for the deep red of the Virginia creepers and a pallet of yellows, browns and pale greens from the  autumn trees, you'd think it was still summer. The drive around the Toulouse ring road was a little stressful, and we were glad it was a Saturday. In the distance we could see the mountains of the Pyrenees, Blue and mysterious. Don't worry Marge we're not going over them. From now on, we'll be checking the contour lines on the map before we set off.

Tonight's stop is right beside the Canal du Midi. It is idyllic, but spoilt by boy racers driving a circuit in their 'fart' cars. It's Saturday night, and we always try to be away from large towns and cities to avoid just this. But it seems these days, there is no hiding place from these idiots. Behind Marge ruins the cycle path. We of course have cycled it in the past when we set off from St. Malo on the north coast to Narbonne. There are two French motorhomes here with us. Both have had their windscreens washed since arriving. Sorry Marge it wouldn't be good for your image not to be rough and dirty in appearance. This evening we prepared for the cold. Changing to our thicker feather duvet. Early evening the temperature was 18 c. We'll probably be 'roasting' tonight, as the Scots would say.