Yesterday we went for our nice long walk along the promenade and beach towards
Castellon. It really was a lovely morning and what is nice about Spain (excluding the Spanish themselves) is that Sunday is a family day. The supermarkets and most shops are all shut and do you know what? - Nobody goes hungry or starves.
Just how it should be. It was lovely to see young families out with their kids and parents (they don't advocate euthanising old people here, just so long as they can still baby sit).
When we'd had enough we turned around and made our way back. That was a lovely way to spend a warm, sunny morning after which we had a lunch of toast-and-whatever, to use up the dried baguette leftovers.
In the afternoon we sat around outside the awning soaking up the sun doing our impressions of old people in a nursing home.
In the evening we made our way
down to the campsite restaurant for our Sunday roast. I think they overlooked us as we waited ages for the meal, but following an enquiry by one of the waiters, out it came, with loads on the plate presumably by way of saying 'sorry for the wait'. It was all
very nice and what's nicest of all is that it gives The Chef a night off. In my defence here, I have offered to cook some meals whilst we're here to give her even more nights off. But first I need to check the level of cover on our travel insurance to see
if 'Repatriation following food poisoning' is covered.
In the evening we watch the Christmassy film 'The Polar Express' on video. Ok, I suppose it was pushing it a bit and
have a feeling that when we get back it will finish up in the car boot box.
It was another cold night, at the moment the temperatures are currently dropping to around 4˚C,
which is pretty cold, even for a brass monkey.
We awoke to another warm, sunny morning, but we did have a bit of a lie-in. Not intentionally, it just worked out that way.
And that's the dilemma, if we get up early, the brass monkeys are still swinging through the trees, and we'd need a coat on to get to the shower block, leave it until later and the temperature becomes more pleasant, but that's half the morning gone. The Chef
and I are reconsidering our 'Spain in winter' options which we'll share once we have the answer.
Due to our late start we had to cut short the 'today's do list'
and settle for popping down to Lidl for a whole chicken and some hand soap. The chicken will be spatchcocked and barbecued tomorrow, accompanied by a bottle of bubbles.
afternoon we went up to the Petanque pitches with our neighbours across the way Steve and Jane. They've played before but not for ages. We showed them the ropes and had an enjoyable hour with them before the 'regulars' turned up at 14:00. The Chef stayed there
for the two-hour session but I had to go shopping- reluctantly.
This morning I noticed that the warning light was on for a low vehicle battery. What should happen when we're
hooked up to mains electricity is that once the leisure battery has been topped up the vehicles battery should then be charged. Before we came away I paid a lot of money to have an intelligent battery charger fitted, this will take good care of the new leisure
battery fitted a few months ago in Plymouth. However it would appear that despite having funded my auto-electricians next foreign holiday, he has failed to connect the two batteries together again, so once the new (expensive) charger has charged the
new (expensive) leisure battery it sits and does sweet F.A., rather than go on to charge the vehicles battery.
So after my hour of Petanque off I went in to town to try and
purchase a battery charger. This task was complicated by the fact that it was national lie-down-and-suck-a-thumb-time, and most shops were shut for the afternoon. Only the Chinese shops were open and they had nothing suitable. On my return to the campsite
I enquired at reception to be told that maybe I could buy one in Castellon, a long bus ride away. So guess where we're having to go on Wednesday?
Looking at the
BBC online news I see there are a rising number of illegal migrants crossing the English Channel in small boats. I have only one question - 'What took them so long?' I have to assume that all those illegal's in the previous Calais camps
were the really thick ones who couldn't work out how to cross that narrow strip of water other than in the back of a lorry. They have now been relocated to numerous hostels throughout France, presumable to be processed and given an EU passport allowing
them to cross the Channel to the UK legally.
Now we have the clever ones, the Iranians, who soon worked out that water = boat. This was the logical conclusion for these people,
but it completely threw our political elite.
Now the bit that annoys me is this - I turn up at an airport with a micro-chipped passport and my necessary documentation and
baggage. The authorities then proceed to treat me as a potential terrorist. My bags are scanned, I go through a body scanner which is powerful enough to know whether I dress to the left or to the right, know what I mean, know what I mean? And also my
passport is inspected and questions asked. Following such an interrogation I may find myself touching my toes whilst I endure a rectal examination with a lubricated gloved hand and a bright torch following a request for a second opinion.
At the same time in the English Channel, the British authorities come across small boats full of people who have no passports, no documentation and no baggage, absolutely nothing
to identify them as either ILLEGAL economic, spiv chancer's or terrorists. But while I'm being treated like a bloody terrorist at Gatwick airport or abroad, these people are being 'rescued' at my expense and feted with all that a gullible British Establishment
can throw at them. And if that isn't enough there are do-gooder charities waiting in the wings to fill any gaps. "Please forgive us gentlemen for not having five star hotel rooms at your disposal, at our expence of course. But this being Christmas most rooms
are taken. Ooopps please forgive me for having mentioned Christmas, I hope I have not caused you offence since you do not celebrate it in your country".
So it's time to stop
feeling sorry for these people criminals. Let's replace the term 'Rescued' with 'Arrested whilst attempting to enter the UK illegally'. Take them back to France or failing that, sling them in the
back of an HGV heading back to Calais and fast-track the lorry through the port and on to the ferry.
And to spare our nation further humiliation, in that these
'desperate' terrorists immigrants are so easily able find a people smuggler, which our authorities are incapable of doing, give the job to the SAS. Go under cover, find the people smugglers and then kill
them discreetly, and a crate of beer for the trooper who bags the most each month. I think that should solve the problem. Let's face it, we've now no Navy to deal with the situation, and that's before we try and deter French trawlermen after we take back
control of our fishing grounds.
Yesterday I was fortunate enough to come across a reputed rehearsal for the first all-inclusive New Year
message from the late King George VI, he of 'The Kings Speech' fame.
The Chef and I will be going in to town to see in the New Year. Not because we want to, but because we'll
never get to sleep on the campsite given the number of feral brat Spanish kids and their shouting, bawling parents who are renting the bunglalows for festivities. Add to that peed-up Brits in the bar and we have no chance. At least if we go in to town we may
get a free firework display and if I'm really lucky I might get to see a brat Spanish kid spit-roasted or stuck on top of a bonfire.
What an interesting time 2019 is
going to be. In the meantime a very happy New Year to you, and all of those you love and hold dear.