Jane And Rog
LIFE MEMBER
I enjoyed our Moroccan thread and our readers were so helpful, so I thought I‘d try to do it all again. This time the (very loose) goal is to get to Albania, but really, after the spring we’ve had, some sunshine is all we need.
As usual we had a quick 30 minute drive from Hamstreet to Folkestone, and were bumped to an earlier train. This time, to the great relief of all our readers (Hi Dad!), Rog had time to ingest a massive sausage sandwich pre-flight.
Also, noticing that smoking is now compulsory, he smoked a quick pipe stuffed with loose cherry shag.
On the train itself, we noticed that luckily someone had filled in the responses to an emergency situation. Sadly, as you can see, their grasp of French was sadly lacking.
As I’m sure you all know, it’s “la scream.”
With considerably better weather than in December last year, we took the A16 and then A25, toll free all the way, past Lille and into Belgium, and then south east-ish via Mons and Namur, turning more sharply south to end up at Han-sur-Lesse. Here we had a choice of campsite or aire, and not needing a shower or “camping behaviour”, chose the aire. However, the campsite has a winning location, with (to the casual eye) every pitch right next to the river with a cracking view. Certainly one for a sunny summer evening and some charcoal.
However, the aire at manipulates.pulsing.rationalism is excellent - we’re well supplied with electrons, and if we needed them, probably water and waste disposal too. Cost €14.
First order of the day was to explore the town and take Flynn for a walk.
Han-sur-Lesse is famous for its caves, but we thought they looked over-commercialised and expensive, and gave them a miss in exchange for a walk up into the woods where Flynn could chase the odd stick and let off steam.
After a rest back in Denby, we went out for the evening. First we decided to have a drink at “Arthur”, the town centre hotel bar, before eating at “La Perruche”. Sadly though, the parrot had shut up shop, and we had to return shame-faced to good old Arthur (the only game in town on a Tuesday in May) for dinner - not bad food, but massive, and Flynn has a whole meal of leftovers in the fridge for tomorrow’s breakfast.
If any of you have also read our Morocco blog, you’ll know that it was a tale of many woes. If any of you are of the gambling persuasion, I’m thinking of opening a book.
Evens on:
3-1:
As usual we had a quick 30 minute drive from Hamstreet to Folkestone, and were bumped to an earlier train. This time, to the great relief of all our readers (Hi Dad!), Rog had time to ingest a massive sausage sandwich pre-flight.
Also, noticing that smoking is now compulsory, he smoked a quick pipe stuffed with loose cherry shag.
On the train itself, we noticed that luckily someone had filled in the responses to an emergency situation. Sadly, as you can see, their grasp of French was sadly lacking.
As I’m sure you all know, it’s “la scream.”
With considerably better weather than in December last year, we took the A16 and then A25, toll free all the way, past Lille and into Belgium, and then south east-ish via Mons and Namur, turning more sharply south to end up at Han-sur-Lesse. Here we had a choice of campsite or aire, and not needing a shower or “camping behaviour”, chose the aire. However, the campsite has a winning location, with (to the casual eye) every pitch right next to the river with a cracking view. Certainly one for a sunny summer evening and some charcoal.
However, the aire at manipulates.pulsing.rationalism is excellent - we’re well supplied with electrons, and if we needed them, probably water and waste disposal too. Cost €14.
First order of the day was to explore the town and take Flynn for a walk.
Han-sur-Lesse is famous for its caves, but we thought they looked over-commercialised and expensive, and gave them a miss in exchange for a walk up into the woods where Flynn could chase the odd stick and let off steam.
After a rest back in Denby, we went out for the evening. First we decided to have a drink at “Arthur”, the town centre hotel bar, before eating at “La Perruche”. Sadly though, the parrot had shut up shop, and we had to return shame-faced to good old Arthur (the only game in town on a Tuesday in May) for dinner - not bad food, but massive, and Flynn has a whole meal of leftovers in the fridge for tomorrow’s breakfast.
If any of you have also read our Morocco blog, you’ll know that it was a tale of many woes. If any of you are of the gambling persuasion, I’m thinking of opening a book.
Evens on:
- Hot water fails (it miraculously came to life after Rog got our leaks fixed, so who knows?)
- Water leaks (if we don’t get any, it’ll be the first time in living memory. At these odds, I’m giving it away)
- Calamity back in the UK requiring us to hover just below Belgium, dithering.
- Flynn kills a chicken
3-1:
- Rog drives into a tree (alive, dead, or mere stump)
- Mice discovered nesting in air filter / dead in cutlery drawer
- World War III breaks out
