We were awake at 07:00 and so decided to make a start with a view to leaving the campsite at Rocamadour by 09:00.
Owing to our early star we were the first in the shower cubicles and it took forever to get hot water to reach the shower heads. We were both thinking we'd have to have cold showers.
We hit our target of 09:00 and headed out of town having dumped everything and taken on fresh water. We had to retrace our steps from back down the hill to Payrac, but I have to say, it was a lot easier going predominantly downhill than it was coming up. Due to the earlier hour we saw hardly any other vehicles, and the need to breathe in deep for our first tourist coach coming in the other direction didn't happen until we were nearly at Payrac.
Our first stop was the E Leclerc supermarket at Souillac (N44.898144° E1.462856°) which was rather disappointing I have to say, but it is the only one in the area. It was hard work trying to find everything on the shopping list, and their meat selection was pretty poor. Never mind we've managed to bag a couple of 'Real Beef' burgers and some chicken drumsticks for a barbecue tomorrow evening. The bonus was I managed to find a cheap pair of sandals for just twelve Euros. The pair I bought with me were thrown in the bin at the car park back at Rocamadour. They were rubbing the back of my heel something awful. I bought them from Cotton Traders, online. The first pair I bought from them a few years ago were really comfortable and were the pair I took to Greece with me, and which were enjoyed by the local chewing dogs. But I repaired them and they are still in use as gardening sandals.
When I returned from that trip I ordered two more pairs, only to find of course, as happens these days, the specification had changed and the new pairs had been reduced to that of cheap Chinese shite. So that's one pair in a French bin and one more pair still waiting to be worn. I think perhaps I'll take them to a car boot sale.
We had two options for our accommodation. The first was a Camperstop for which we had to pay, and a campsite Flower Camping les Ondines (N44.888802° E1.477037°) reasonably priced at fourteen Euros a night because it's in the ACSI scheme to which we subscribe. It was a no-brainer, given that the weather here at the moment is stinking hot (today has been thirty degrees without a breath of air), so why would we want to fry on a Camperstop when we can have grass under our feet, shade and access to a swimming pool? Oh and we're right next to the river Dordogne.
The one problem with that is it attracts the local yoof. Our first pitch was right on the edge of the campsite, with the river one the other side of a tall hedge, but then it got noisy. I decided to take a look and found that on the other side of the hedge we had backed on to was a wide 'promenade' alongside the river, and along it were bench seats. Two of which were right opposite our pitch and we were enduring the noise of yoof and at one time some very loud rapping shite from da bruvs, what was disrespectin us toorists.
Walking further along I came across a football coaching session for little tots, and next to it a rider training session.
When I got back I informed The Chef that we couldn't be parked in a worse possible place and so having deliberated the situation, decided to up sticks and move further away.
No regrets and we find the new pitch much better with more shade so it was worth the effort.
Tomorrow we are taking a walk in to town as there are a couple of things of potential interest. We'll head off asap before it gets too hot. We can then return and collapse in a big crumpled heap.
As for the news, well the war crimes committed by Vladimir 'Oh please DO die' Putin continue in Ukraine, and following the predictable thrashing at the local elections Boris the Clown has begun practicing his balloon modelling ready to entertain at kids parties again when the Tories bin both he and Princess Nut Nut, then there's poor old Peter André courtesy of the WAG v WAG farce having the pee taken out of his 'chipolata'. A pretty mean move in my opinion. That's what happens when the wives of two grossly overpaid Premier league footballers get to spend some of their husbands money on barristers to settle an argument the sane and sensible world never gave a toss about in the first place.
I like Peter, I consider him a 'good guy' in the crazy world of showbiz, and I'm sure he is too much of a gentleman to turn up as a witness in court to say something like giving Katie Price one was like trying to fill the Mersey Tunnel with a frankfurter. Maybe it's out of fear that she'll retaliate with the claim that while Pete thought he was enjoying a blowjob she was, in fact, just using it as a tooth pick.
It's a crazy world......see you tomorrow.