“You can stay here if you want!” cackled the old woman, as she rearranged the flowers on the grave that she was tending.
We had reached a dead end, quite literally, next to a cemetery in Slovenia.
We had come from Verona and had been on the road for hours. We were looking for our first choice of campsite. “I don’t have the address, but we can’t miss it. Vremski Britof is only a small village. I read about the campsite on a blog and it sounds lovely. It’s right by a river!” Mark enthused.
Campsite Dujčeva Domačija was not listed in our Sat Nav. However, we had the postcode and it was that which had led us us confidently down the narrow road to the cemetery. It was the kind of narrow road that had me thinking “I hope that we won’t need to do a U-turn…”
We had viewed an apartment for the winter ski season, which had a large parcel of land to the side. “IMPOSS-I-BILE!” was the very Italian reaction to our commitment to pay a deposit straight away if we could leave our caravan parked in a discreet corner of the land over the winter.
I said last time that Italian property rental is very different from the UK. The idea was dismissed out of hand, without consideration. There was not even any attempt to negotiate; to seal the deal and get the money in the bank, months in advance. Two foreigners and a caravan? It was all just way too far out of the ordinary.
Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it’s much more serious than that. Bill Shankly
We had no internet and no TV reception. Last night, we had driven thirty fruitless miles in two directions to try to find a bar showing the France / Belgium World Cup Semi Final. We didn’t try watching the game via the free WiFi at reception. Someone had been ridiculed for even making that suggestion.
Although when Mark had gone up to use the free WiFi to check the result, he found our new Dutch friends and the French family next door all watching the game live on their iPads!
I tend to fill the kettle and leave it on the hob the night before. In the compact living space of the caravan, this means that all I need to do is lean out of bed to reach the knob to switch it on for my morning coffee!
The occupants of the tent next door were up early; it was 07:30. The smell of toast wafted into the caravan. I love the morning smells of a campsite. In Britain, the delicious smell of bacon frying…
My reverie was interrupted by the shrill screech of the smoke alarm. I shot out of bed. The kettle was still cold! It seems that half asleep, in semi-darkness and without my glasses, I had turned on the grill rather than the hob. Crumbs in the grill pan explained the smell of toast as they heated up to the point of near combustion… Thank goodness for the smoke alarm. Otherwise maybe WE would have been toast! Continue reading “Paradise Found! Camping La Chassagne, Auvergne, France”→