A few more comments about camping and the soundtrack to life on a campsite. Our nearest French neighbours have a little dog – so do most people in France it seems these days, so we are no longer the only nation of dog-lovers. This particular little dog is well behaved and quiet most of the time, but when it does bark, it yelps like someone just stood on its paw.
This is another site where you brush the outside mats every day – several times a day when you have a family with a 3 year old staying with you and the Mistral blowing sand and pine needles everywhere. That was the soundtrack to Fuzeta last year too, and anywhere on the Med really as all the sites are on sand or baked dirt with a few strands of grass lurking under the hedges.
Our German neighbours favour late booze fuelled nights and correspondingly louder and louder conversations and laughter. As we are often invited we have no problem with this of course. The nightwatch guy on the site went crazy at them a couple of nights ago and they think they now have 2 red cards against them, though no-one knows what that could really mean. As they have been coming here for 20+ years I assume not a lot in their case.
For 5 days we countered the late nights with a voluble toddler waking up early, though interestingly a bit later each day (even 3 year olds can chill a little). Our neighbours happily slept through it!
Now everyone appears to have run out of steam and we have all been going to bed earlier and getting up later so campsite life also catches up with you it seems.
Light aircraft fly over the site intermittently, any time from 7am to 9pm in the dark. We think there must be a flying school nearby. There is a children’s school nearby, with a public address system which sounds like Butlins, and a small bullring, but that is only used in the high season. Good news is they don’t kill bulls here, instead young men chase them to grab a plume tied to their horns. The horns also have balls on the end to avoid goring incidents, but the ambulances still stand by as those balls in their balls can still compromise their fun for a day or two….
So now the French are sweeping, the Germans are laughing, I hear the sound of B pouring me a glass of rose, and someone just stood on the dog again…