Caumont sur Garonne, France

Last night all was quiet by eleven. Unexpected for a Friday night close to a town. We had noticed here, as in other areas of France, the police seemed to drive around the town regularly. A lot of the local people seemed to be off North African origin and for some reason congregated near to the small supermarket close to the abbey. The town all settled, we were lulled to sleep by the rumble of the lumbering goods trains that passed by on the nearby railway line. Noise from trains we're fine with. We have a railway line running behind us at home. Fart cars, loud televisions, shouting and talking until the early hours and smoking we despise. Right couple of hard to please moaners aren't we? As we were tidying up after breakfast this morning a Frenchman sauntered over. Ready for some 'ooh la la' Marge? Upon the sight of our English registration plate he beat a hasty retreat. Happens all the time. Don't be offended Marge. It's not you, it's them. We were way by midday after a quick walk into town to look around the market.

As always the fresh fish stall caught our eye. the vibrant pinks of the prawns and langoustines and the variety of glistening bright eyed fish. An elderly couple couple with a table set up with an assortment of ceps, some huge, were happy for us to photograph their foraged haul. As advised we drove Marge slow and steady for about two hours passing field after field of corn cobs undergoing their long awaited harvest. We could only imagine the panic as rodents scurried to safety from the huge rotating blades of the combine. Run fast guys. Above the buzzards flew low.

So here we are at Caumont sur Garonne. Have we visited here before? Of course we have. The first time we stayed on the aire we were in Marge 1. Our VW T4 Topaz campervan. Then the electrical hook up was free. Not so now. And yes we've cycled by two or three times. This afternoon the sun was out. The temperature warm. Not bad for the middle of October. This time last year we were on a campsite further up on the Atlantic coast booking trains to bail out of France and return home because heavy rain was forecast for a week. Let's hope the rain will stay away this year. But the fair weather encourages mosquitoes, and for only the second time this trip we're plagued by them. Big buggers, buzzing in your ears. We can hear them mock us. Citronella doesn't bother us! Angela sprayed it liberally over herself anyway before we walked into the nearby village.

A village with a few houses, a church and a vending machine where you could buy charcuterie. Eight euros will purchase you a beef or pork sausage for the purpose of slicing. This was a new one to us. We've seen fruit and veg, baguette and pizza vending machines before, but never meat. As another day began to draw to a close we took a walk along the canal looking at the fungi. Sadly no ceps. They were probably being readied for a Sunday market nearby. A light breeze ruffled the remaining crisp brown leaves on the trees sending a few down into the slow moving water of the canal. Today has been a good day. Marge was happy, which means we were as well. Our neighbours to the left tonight are, Dutch. A very nice non smoking, book reading, friendly couple. As for the slot to the right of us, it's still empty. Knowing our luck someone will arrive late tonight and slot in next to Marge. Eighteen days until we return to England. Next stop Marge, Bordeaux. We haven't been there for a while have we?

Yes it's a mushroom (Basket Stinkhorn), and no you don't want to eat it....

Moissac, France

Why do they always park next to us? T.V. on until eleven-thirty. Then rearrange the interior of the van. Leave van at thirty minute intervals to smoke right next to us. We have a roof tent, in case you hadn't noticed! This morning John asked the Dutch lady not too smoke so near to us. Her response. basically do one. Fortunately, soon after they left. The husband looking a little sheepish. In the community centre adjacent this morning a ladies exercise class. One lady outside managed to smoke a king size cigarette in record time before entering the building. At least her lungs were warmed up ready. Each day we hope the weather will be kind. Yesterday morning shorts. This morning long trousers.

We didn't set off until late morning, after walking into town to buy a baguette and taking yet another look around streets familiar to the local people, but interesting to us. It was cool and misty. As we drove church steeples stood ghost like amongst villages we knew were there but could not see. Today was supposed to be 22 c and sunny. We hadn't signed up for this. However by the time we arrived at Moissac, the murk had cleared and the sun burst forth. 22c and sunny.

As forecast. As with all the other towns and villages we have visited recently, we have course been here. Twice before in fact. Moissac is a UNESCO site.

The abbey with its striking carvings as you enter, a stopping off point for pilgrims walking the Way of Saint James, of which there were a few today. A walk around town and the charming canal side, stopping in the Street of Artists to watch a glass blower at work.

We'd have loved to purchase a couple of items from the shop, but were worried they may not survive the journey back home. Once again the French dominate. Around seven a man from Belgium arrived and parked in the bay next to us. Oh God. He has a satellite receiver for his television. Not again please. We were O.K. though. He greeted us by waving a cuddly Scottish highland 'Coo' he'd bought whilst travelling in Scotland. As you do. Angela tactfully mentioned last nights Dutch couple, and it soon became apparent we had nothing to worry about.  The Aire here is on the site of the old public swimming baths. Let's hope they filled in the pool beneath us properly, or it'll be 'goodnight Vienna' for us and Marge!

Visiting Glaswegian vessel in town.

Grisolles

Why would you need a fire exit sign on the inside of your motorhome door? We'll leave that one with you. After two nights of respite from Marge's 'issues', it was time to once again set off, but not far, just a few miles along the canal to Grisolles. The young couple opposite seemed sad we were leaving. We stopped packing up to talk to them for a while. It seems they have lived in their big old Hymer van for a year and a half now. Can you imagine. Two adults and two young children all housed in such a small space? Her family lived over Avignon way, and they had friends in Toulouse. She was a tatoo artist, probably a give away as she was adorned in quite a few herself. At the moment the husband was unemployed. Their circumstances financially weren't great, but a lady in Grisolles, of all places, had agreed to perhaps allow them to rent a property from her. They seemed such a nice family, we hope everything works out for them. They waved frantically as we drove off, but not before gifting us two slices of chocolate chip cheesecake. Well Angela wasn't going to refuse that.  Our first stop, Norauto of course. We couldn't leave Toulouse without ensuring Marge had a large container of coolant onboard. John is convinced she'll be O.K. now, as long as we go slow and steady. Do you hear that Marge?

Grisolles is a small town that sits alongside the Canal Lateral de la Garonne. The Aire is just near the road bridge that crosses into the town, right by a picnic area we stopped to lunch at many years ago. This Aire is free. 'Freemans' as Angela's father would say. Why? We're not sure. More and more of the Aires in popular areas are becoming payable. We think that maybe they are being taken on by private companies, instead of being run by the municipality. Because we are still relatively close to Toulouse, and the Aire is free it is busy. We arrived early afternoon and took a spot really more suitable for a larger motorhome. But hey, the early bird catches the worm. and in Marge's case, the early bird catches the rays. After being on the campsite at Toulouse with not much sun for two days, and no electrical hook up, and only driving a short distance today, our leisure battery needed a top up, from solar. As the vans began to arrive we soon realised we would be outnumbered by the French. Besides us, there is a Dutch and Spanish van.

The Spanish camouflaged in zebra print probably should have been on safari. Late afternoon, yet another huge French van arrived. Out jumps madame, stands at the rear nearside and with a limp wrist waves her hand about. And that signal means what exactly what? Monsieur, as they always do, ignored his wife. There was a reversing camera on the rear of the van, and we thought he just let her feel useful by helping out. When the van didn't stop reversing when she wanted it to, she tried to push the van forward. Excellent! We have seen this scenario unfold time after time, and wonder how many of these woman end up in hospital, or worse. Next, as we expected, the  television aerial goes up, then the husband cleans the windscreen. Job done, step inside van and close door until the morning.

As for us, well a walk into town this afternoon.

Then an evening walk alongside the canal. We're just simple folk, with simple needs.