The journey to Dover was long and tedious, made worse by the fact that the trains in the channel tunnel were running an hour behind schedule due to problems on the line. However, it did allow me the chance to curl up in the camper and catch up on some much needed sleep before heading south, to Saint Omar, where I parked up for the first night.
As ever I had good intentions when it came to packing, starting with my list writing at least two weeks before. However I still hadn't managed to pack until 5am that morning, after spending the night before out with friends. In fact, to say that my 5am routine had consisted of any packing at all would be a lie. Instead I took everything out of the tumble dryer, threw it into a rucksack and put it in the van, deciding I could deal with it later, and sleep first.
As ever I had good intentions when it came to packing, starting with my list writing at least two weeks before. However I still hadn't managed to pack until 5am that morning, after spending the night before out with friends. In fact, to say that my 5am routine had consisted of any packing at all would be a lie. Instead I took everything out of the tumble dryer, threw it into a rucksack and put it in the van, deciding I could deal with it later, and sleep first.
On the trip to the campsite in Saint Omar, the camper experienced his first accident, where a French driver (quelle surprise) decided that my 50mph was not quick enough for the single lanes, and sped past, putting a lovely scratch into my freshly polished wing mirror. We were lucky, he could have taken off the mirror all together, and so a mere scratch is nothing in the grand scheme of things.
Camping le chateau du Gandspette is small site, not far from the ferry, and the perfect stop over point for those coming to and from the port.
We parked up for the evening, and although pricey, it was nice to have somewhere comfortable with good showers, a sweet restaurant, and even a pool, just to settle into before setting off the following morning.
I’d love to make out that everything I do goes perfectly smoothly. That my travels are without a hitch and I am one of those glamorous girls that can do anything, and it is all just right. But I am not, in the slightest. So instead of settling down, grabbing a nice shower, and changing into something a little more suitable to go and grab a bite to eat - I ended up stabbing myself through the hand with a steak knife.
One part of me is a bit pissed off that I managed my first injury within the first few hours of hitting the continent, but the other bit is just purely impressed a how sharp my Lagioule steak knives really are. (Just in case you’re wondering, the cut is tender but okay. It probably does require stitches, but I don't have an EHIC, or enough time to waste in A&E, so a plaster and some savalon will have to suffice.)
A three course menu in the restaurant (€20) and a cold Leffe Ruby were the perfect end to a long day, and sleep came easy that first night, ready for the start of the sun chasing in the morning.
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