Pons

This morning, Angela took a walk around the lake before we set off.

Acorns rained from the oak trees above, now and again hitting their target. Underfoot, a carpet of them, rolling like marbles.

Before we left, Odile presented us with a punnet of home grown baby plum tomatoes from her garden. Then it was au revoir, Camping Rural Le Relais des Garennes, until next year.

It was well after two o' clock when we stopped for our lunch beside a nature reserve in the Marais, just south of La Rochelle. Before we left, we took a stroll along the parking area towards the beach, and were astonished, when we passed a motorhome with a transvestite sat in the driving seat, dressed in a black basque, and fishnet stockings, legs akimbo, either side of the steering wheel. Honestly, we kid you not! Unfortunately, despite the man's posing, we somehow thought it wasn't for us, so sorry, no photograph for the blog. However, perhaps we have solved yesterday's mystery, who buys red basques from a shop, in a small agricultural town! 

Late this afternoon we arrived at our aire for the night, in Pons. It is right outside the entrance to the municipal campsite, which we stayed at two years ago when returning from L'Estartit on the Costa Brava. Before we walked into the town for a look around, a French motorhome pulled in next to us, with a sign of the driver's door advertising Hubert Hypnose. The man, who we presumed was Hubert, set about pulling on a pair of industrial rubber gloves that came up to his elbows, all to empty his chemical toilet. A little extreme we thought. Hubert then drove onto the campsite, leaving us wondering if the industrial rubber gloves were involved in the hypnosis! 

Another exchange library. 

Today has been very warm, with temperatures rising to 24c despite a brisk wind. Tomorrow we will head south, skirting around Bordeaux to tomorrow night's stop on the Atlantic coast at Arcachon.

A beautiful flower in Odile and Phillepe's garden. 

Monbert

This morning at Fresnay Sur Sarthe, we were surprised by the early morning chill, a reminder that summer was slowly slipping away. We left around ten, with most of our journey passing through acres and acres of fields, now brown and bare, after relinquishing their crops. In one, small town, a ladies clothing shop displayed its wares on mannequins outside. But really, a red basque with suspenders, in the heart of agriculture!

Around lunchtime, we stopped in a bustling town, to take a look at a stall selling live fowl. Cute, soft, fluffy geese, chickens, guinea fowl and pheasants. All of the birds looked in very good health, and sat patiently in their cages waiting to be bought. A young couple bought some of the chickens, but their daughter of around three years old, would have liked a cuddly yellow goose chick.

Shortly after, we stopped for lunch at a lovely picnic spot in a small wooded area in the town of Angrie. Before we left, John gathered some dry wood for the barbecue we would be having this evening.

Before arriving at Monbert, we stopped to photograph a restored windmill, and then called in at a supermarket to buy a camembert and weigh our gas cylinder. Yes, that's correct, after communicating through Google translate, the lady on the customer services desk, said we could weigh our gas cylinder on the fruit and vegetable scales, it's the only way to tell how much gas is left in the cylinder, and as we are not sure how easy it will be to buy a replacement in Spain or Portugal, quite a bizarre, but important exercise.

Arriving at Odile's and Philippe's campsite, we were surprised how busy it was. But a place was found for Marge under the trees. Shortly after arriving, we walked into town, noticing how arid the ground was, and how much the water had receded in the fishing lake adjacent to the campsite.

This evening has been both relaxing and enjoyable, although Odile did seem a little bothered by the height of the flames as John lit the barbecue. We know he has previous with the fire brigade, but on this occasion no need to call the Pompiers. Whilst our food was cooking, we talked with an Englishman, who said how nice it was to now be able to afford good French wine, unlike when he was younger. In our case, cheap, low alcohol wine reigns for Angela as the driver of Marge, save the good stuff for home! Our neighbours opposite on the campsite, were a couple in their seventies, he slightly eccentric. As the gunshot of a cork popping rang through the trees, he proceeded to tell his wife "that the fish should take fifteen minutes, and then to plate up' Her reply, " Why don't you b----r off! Always excellent entertainment, older person, alcohol and in this case, the cooking of fish! Thank god for these characters, we couldn't write this blog without them.

Our first exchange library found on this trip. On a walk into the village by the side of a lake miles from nowhere!

Fresnay Sur Sarthe

Whilst partaking an early breakfast at McDonalds this morning, there was talk all around about Boris and Brexit.

Back at the queue for the car ferry, it was evident the school holidays had ended, the average age of most of the travellers being around seventy. As usual, the crossing to Dieppe, was uneventful and boring, added to, by a couple who criticised everybody they knew in loud voices. You just knew that when they were with these people, they would be all ingratiating.

After a drive of just over four and a half hours, with a short stop, where we discovered Marge had a wet floor in her bathroom, from a leak behind the sink, we arrived at tonight's destination just after seven, grateful, we had grabbed some bolognese from our freezer to heat up upon our arrival. Tonight's aire is by the old railway station. The land that once belonged to it is now an Ecole de Cirque, with a big top at its entrance.

This evening, we took a walk out into the town, with its quaint medieval chateau and pretty cottages, back-lit by a peachy pink sky. By nine o' clock it was dark, and a chill was in the air, a stark difference to when we were away in June.

Tonight we look forward to a quiet, restful sleep, as last night we had to endure the engines of the lorries and their refrigeration units.

Tomorrow we hope to be at Monbert, staying once again at Odile's and Philippe's small campsite in the countryside, near Nantes. After a long day of travelling today, we are looking forward to our holiday beginning properly tomorrow.

Jacob Rees-Mogg spotted hiding on a carved panel of the church!

Newhaven

O.K. blog followers, get ready to shake, rattle and roll, Marge is on the road again, this trip, destination Portugal. Life can take you anywhere, if you seize the day.

At three thirty this afternoon, we left our home in Longwick, taking a last look at the garden, which has demanded many hours of our time over the last two weeks, to prepare it for our absence. The falling apples, a reminder that it is now late summer, and that when we return in November, winter will be upon us.

On route to Newhaven, we reminisced on the same date last year, when we sat off in Marge 1, heading for Spain, we knew after that trip, that we would want to return again and again to Europe, to explore and discover. Despite worrying times, we hope travelling there will be fairly easily in the future.

Changes are already happening though, this year, we have had to buy driving permits for France.

This evening we walked out by the water to The Hope Inn. Moored in the shallows, was a huge platform, which will be used to site wind turbines at sea. As we approached it, it seemed that it was sited in the car park.

Nearby, we spotted a young seagull, which was trapped by some fishing line it had swallowed, and now caught on a wooden structure high above the water. It frantically tried to free itself, to no avail. Despite being a nuisance, and known as flying rats, no one wants to see a bird or animal in distress, so John telephoned the R.S.P.C.A.

We then went into the nearby pub for a meal, expecting a man or woman to turn up in a small van with R.S.P.C.A. on the side. Time went by, and the lifeboat came by, surely not! But it passed by not noticing the bird. Suddenly, blue flashing lights bounced around in the dimming light, and low and behold the fire brigade arrived. After taking a look, it was decided a seagull in distress was not worth the risk to their lives. They spent a good hour, watching it struggle to free itself, and then left. Goodness knows what the cost of dispatching the fire brigade was, perhaps we'll find out John, they've got your name and mobile number!

Tomorrow morning, the ferry leaves at nine, so we'll be in France by two o' clock. Our aim is to be over near Nantes by Friday, and head to Northern Spain quite quickly.