Homeward Bound

The flakiest croissants ever having been duly scoffed, the local aire de camping car having been visited and Maisy fed and watered, Gill having bruised her thumb on the spring-loaded white water hose,to add to the catalogue of minor injury she has sustained since leaving dear old Blighty - we were now ready to head home. 

Jaulny has a great Aire de Camping next to the Salle de Reunion - one to mark for the future.

As Gill filled up the water tank I wandered off to photograph the river Mad

The original plan had been to camp just north of Reims, but we just decided to head west and wait to see how far we got. The rolling wheat fields full of combines and attendant tractors gathering in the harvest seemed to last forever.

La Champagne - not the most visually exciting region of France!

We made steady progress along the 'N' roads but every four or five miles we had to slow to 30 kph as we crawled through village after village, each looking the same, one long street of drab shuttered houses with not a soul to be seen. I tried to characterise each one just to relieve the boredom: St Martin of the giant white silo, Ste Marie of the suicidal black cat, Les Champs de rusty locomotive, La Tour de lampposts rouge, La Grange de la bone shaking speed bumps......On and on we went.

Even though it was Sunday the Reims one way system was horrible and the drivers aggressive and inconsiderate. We thew in the towel just west of Soisson and found ourselves a lovely small campsite with big pitches and a lively duck pond. I don't actually remember too much of the evening. I was really tired; Gill and I reclined the folding chairs to watch the stars come out, by the time Venus had appeared followed by one or two others I went in and fell asleep straightaway.

Big pitches

The duck pond

Simple food, nice wine, evening sunshine - the joys of travel!

Next day, our final day in France, we stopped at St Valery sur Somme. We've visited the pretty little harbour town many times, either as a final stop-off on longer trips, or a nice place for lunch if we are making a short winter break to Pas de Calais to stock up on some decent wine. The little Breton style Creperie is a particular favorite of ours.

The Somme estuary

St Valery

The riverside promenade, St Valery

Creperie Sel et Sucre, St Valery, best crepes outside of Brittany?

Evening sunlight on the old convent buildings

This time though it was not quite the same. Firstly, we did not realise just how crowded and trippery the place got in August. In the past we've stayed at the campsite at Chateau de Drancourt in some woods a couple of miles out of town. With Maisy to park we decided to use Camping Walric on the edge of town so we could walk into the centre and have a meal. At 34 Euros per night you might expect a bit of quality, but the place was poor, the facilities tired and none too clean. It was noisy and very much the preserve of extended French families en vacance, which is fair enough of course, but not what we wanted. Laura was not happy either and really fed up with the long days travelling. In retrospect we should have planned some days towards the end of the trip which would have appealed more to an 18 year old. Maybe a city visit. It's easy to be wise after the event, but as novice motorhomers we did not even know what was feasible as a daily journey and it was only part way through the trip where I got somewhere close to the level of confidence I have driving a car abroad, though maybe Maisy and I are not quite ready just yet to negotiate the Naples inner ring road at rush hour. Next year perhaps.

Today we spent shopping in Boulogne Auchan and Cite Europe before crossing to Dover later in the afternoon. Tonight we're parked up on the motorhome area next to Canterbury, New Dover Road Park and Ride. At £3.00 for 24 hrs and unlimited bus trips into the city it's great value. Though the free Park and Ride bus stops running at 7.30pm service buses no.16 and 17 continue later, so we' just popped into the centre to eat at Wagamama.

Where all trips to Europe conclude - the ferry queue at Calais

Wagamamas Canterbury

Christ Church Gatehouse and the old Butter Market

This modern statue was placed here in 1937. The original was destroyed in the Civil War

Playwright, spy, atheist or closet catholic - the mysterious Christopher Marlowe

Wagamamas - after all this recent Teutonic stuff some good old fashioned British multi-cultural fusion was oddly reassuring. No way can Britain compete with the kind of economic miracle the Germans have created. The vibrancy and cultural ferment that you get in Britain happens precisely because there is no consensus or cohesion. Irreconcilable angst, national self doubt and warring tribalism maybe destined to become our most endearing characteristics. Judging by the acreage of tatooed, but sun tanned flesh on show by returning Brits on the ferry I wonder how much have we actually progressed since Caesar's legions surveyed the welcome committee of woad daubed natives waving spears from the cliff tops in 55BC.

Its been a fascinating trip. Much to think about and absorb. Maybe when I get home tomorrow I'll be able to draw together some concluding thoughts. Right now my priority is helping Gill polish off the Cotes du Roussillon that we cracked open last night.

Welcome back

Maisy amongst the big boys at Donnington Services - almost home.