I had an awful night, the telly was on again next door, the folk to our right. The Chef was driving them home like mad but I had to let her get on with it because she needed to shake her cold off, but at least I didn't hear the buzzing of a mosquito. However when we both woke up we'd been bitten well and truly yet again. The Dutch telly addicts drove out of town about 07:00, but it's of no benefit to us as we were leaving today as well. Showers onboard again to use some of the water up, but unfortunately it also meant we were using up some of the LPG to heat the water. Perhaps I'll find somewhere to refill the empty cylinder, if not I'm not too worried as we should have enough to see us through.
We dumped all waste water etc before leaving the Aire heading around the very busy coastal road to reach the other side of St Tropez, where I was hoping we'd find the beachside campsite. Oh what fun we had getting through St Tropez. Our 'Snooper' Satnav, currently basking in the reputation of 'Thoroughly Untrustworthy Friend', took us through very narrow streets, where bystanders were kindly guiding us through gaps between paths, parked vehicles, sometimes on both sides of the road, cars up on kerbs, sometimes with just a fag paper's clearance both sides of us. Oh how I'm going to relish my Victor Meldrew moment with Snoopers creators when I get home.
After being in a long and laborious slow moving tail-back all the way round the bay we came across the campsite, Camping De La Plage (GPS: N43.282093 E6.586054), I pulled in. OH HELL! It was packed solid, probably because it's the only bit of decent beach in the whole bay, and the price was very reasonable, but everybody was crammed in to their pitches. Each camper taking up every square inch of their 'territory', the Caravan Club, normally anally retentive at the best of times, would have freaked if they'd seen what we saw, and they would be right on this occasion. There wasn't a fag paper between property on each pitch which means if a fire breaks out, especially in a breeze, it would spread right through the site. That's a lot of exploding LPG cylinders, never mind anything else.
I turned round, ushered to the guy on the gate who foolishly thought he was going to take some money off us, that we were not staying and were off. That done we came across nowhere else to stay and so finished up on the Toll Road heading north. We are now at Flower Camping Provence Valee (GPS: N43.829892 E5.763824), a very nice little campsite at Manosque, northwest of Aix-en-Provence. They charge just €13 plus tourist tax per night, and we think that includes electricity, and it has a lovely new swimming pool, compare that with the fat greedy farmer back at St Tropez.
The Chef is feeling a lot better today, the fact that I had begger all sleep seems to have fallen on deaf ears, but we're settled, she's soaking up a bit of sunshine, there is a swimming pool awaiting us tomorrow and we're heading north towards Switzerland.
Tonight we will sacrifice the two chicken breasts to the Lord of Burnt Offerings.
Life may be considered better than it was this morning. Now where did I put that Antihistamine cream?