And we're off....Again

ScoobyMoo Blog

Well...
That came around quickly.
It doesn't seem two minutes since I was setting off, albeit in anxious anticipation, for the continent in Bob the camper-van.

After a really nice spring and summer, itchy feet have ruled and I'm off again. As I write we are just "pulling in" ( if that's what ships do) to Roscoff in Brittany, France.
Last year this is where I got off, or disembarked to use the nautical terminology. This year I'm staying put and spending another day on the high seas, bound for Bilbao.True, it's more expensive but it is a lot less driving and should be a bit quicker. The crossing (why do they call it a crossing?) to Bilbao takes two days. Overnight to Roscoff and then onwards to Spain. You can do it in one day but it lands in the evening (do boats land?) this one gets into port at 8:00am so I get a full days driving in daylight.

Things have changed. Bob The CamperVan is no more, he's been changed for a new, slightly larger, certainly more luxurious van called ScoobyMoo. After taking delivery in May, he's had a few outings in the UK and now it's his first holiday abroad.

We left a miserable Chesterfield yesterday morning for the 220 mile trip to the ferry port in a much more miserable Portsmouth. It was absolutely pissing it down as we pulled into the Brittany Ferries ferry terminal. I've always been the punctual sort, much preferring to arrive a little early. Yesterday was no exception. Setting off at 10;30 I'd allowed myself 12 hours to do 220 miles! What does one do arriving at a ferry port 5 hours early. The bloody ships probably still in France.

Ferry ports are not like airports. More like a bus stations with hideously priced "stuff". After spending my months pension on a medium latte I did however fall lucky, spotting the Tesco equivalent of "yellow label" bargains in the newsagent/gift shop/ stuff you've forgotten emporium. A chicken and stuffing sandwich and a chicken tikka wrap. Two quid for both.

The good thing about a Camper van is that a five hour wait can be quite comfortable. With chicken sandwich, pork pie and cup of tea. (I decided to forgo the wine as I still had to drive onto the actual ferry). I settled down on the sofa to watch the Sunday afternoon film.

Love the way they call it a "crossing"


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Location:Port of Roscoff. France

Day Thirty Six - Camp Cabopino

Tesco appear to be worried I've not spent any money with them for a whole month. I've had 4 emails from them today. Bet the trading figures for Christmas are gonna be shite!

If it wasn't for the fact that I get Clubcard points and the vast majority of my long haul flights have been funded by converting these Clubcard points into air miles, I might consider shopping at Lidl. The food appears to stay fresh longer (unless it's my fridge) and it's defiantly cheaper, even after adding in the fact I give all my coppers to the ubiquitous Lidl Romanian begging woman. Just saying!

I got some new neighbours two days ago, English, can't decide if it's her son or toy boy. They have got a very handsome Labrador though. I'd have a dog if I was going to stick with the nomad theme. The only problem I have is I could not "NOT" , do the poop thing. The very thought of it, even though your hand would be inside a plastic bag makes me wretch. Could you get used to it? I'm not sure, but getting a dog and finding out you can't would be a bit of a problem.

Last night I went to the local pub with my new mate Jim. Jim is a 70 year old ex long distance lorry driver and he is the archetypal 'grumpy old man' but great with it. He stays a Camp Cabopino pretty much 9 months of the year. Knows everyone and everything about the place. After he had lent me his battery charger (which is working famously) , he invited me to join him and a few mates at the local. They have a darts team and on Wednesday night they practice in preparation for the Friday night match.

Off I went, had a great night, met some interesting people and had a belly full of beer. I have been asked to join the dart team. Not because I can play darts, but because I seem to be the only person that can do simple subtraction. It appears to be a be an area of development for the team.

The weather today has been a bit shite, while warm it has also been cloudy with a cool wind. I decided to once again risk the 'cannonball run' and go into town. Not driving, but by bus. We had a lady driver today. She took no shit or prisoners, when she wanted to go, she went. That road still scares me, the thought of leaving here is causing me some anxiety already. I think I may invest on one of those traffic cones, park up my van, run up the motorway, stick it in the carriageway before entering the main road!

While in town I decided to do a bit of research. There are a couple of "must do's" while I'm down in this neck of the woods. Gibraltar and Morocco. Originally I'd thought about taking the van over to Morocco for a few weeks, the fact I've now got a warning light has made me have second thoughts. Not to be outdone though, I've secreted, in one of the many 'compartments' in my van. My backpack. So, my intention is to leave the van here and take public transport to the port, a ferry to Tangiers, and have a few days on the African continent. I was chatting to a very helpful chappy who can sort it out, he can also do a trip to Gibraltar for €12 euro and no delays. Ding Dong!

Tonight I'm going for full on Andalusian cuisine. Irish sausage, Heinz beans ( auto correct was insisting it was Heineken ) and cheesy mash.

Washed down of course with a glass or two of red, Rioja. When I was young and foolish I used to think that Rioja was pronounced Rio Jar. As opposed
Ri okka. I must have made a fool of myself in many a restaurant!

As I take my dinner from the oven and glance across the pitch to my neighbours. I can confirm the lady next door has a 'toy boy'. Unless she's still breast feeding......


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Location:Artola,Spain

Day Thirty Four - Camping Cabopino

I watched BrokeBack Mountain on my IPod on Sunday night, yep, IPod..... Not sure how it got there, (BrokeBack Mountain, not the iPod) I must have downloaded it years ago before iPhones, iPads and the like.

I was sunbathing yesterday afternoon and in-between Cafe Del Mar volume 4 and the Buddah Bar volume 2, I had a quick shifty to see if I'd anything on video. There it was, BrokeBack Mountain.

I don't watch telly much at home. That didn't stop me from getting a 55inch 3D fuck off smart telly though. Do you know, if you hold an iPod against the end of your nose, the perspective is exactly the same as sitting on the sofa watching a 55 inch. You obviously don't get the 3D and 'smart' functionality but to be fair, I don't use that much anyway. Channel 4 news and the odd NatGeo programme are about as much as I watch.

It's was a busy Monday morning, washing clothes, pots, pans and generally giving the place a much needed spruce up. Monday is now officially laundry day. Ive spent all morning down by the river, beating my smalls against a rock.






I jest, although I did hand wash. Monday is the 'day off' for the Camp Cabopino staff so there was no one around to take my 5 Euros in exchange for a washing washing token. I'm not new to hand washing, I used to do it quite regularly when travelling. I started off using head and shoulders but in occurred to me that this was a tad expensive so I've progressed to proper, non bio washing liquid. I'm pretty sure that the clothes will end up useless at the end of the trip. Again, I'm used to that too. I've left many a country with the clothes I was wearing, my ipad, teaching books, passport and toothbrush.

After pot washing, laundry washing and hanging, I headed for a shower and a shave. I was beginning to look a bit like a hobo.

Note to self, don't get shampoo in your gash, it hurts like hell. Forgetting yesterday's injury I liberally poured a load of Aussie 'Miracle Moist' shampoo into my hands and then started to massage my heed. Not something I will be repeating in a hurry, for sure.

After a trek to the supermarket I found out that Monday was, fact a Bank holiday in Spain and the local Lidl was shut, apart from a wasted walk it means a wine free night, don't suppose it will hurt.

The holiday is to celebrate "Los Tres Reyes Magos" which literally means "The Three King Wizards", but is usually interpreted to mean "The Three Wise Men" or "The Three Kings". Their celebration day (January 6th) is refered to as "Three Kings Day" or just "The Day of the Kings".

The Three Kings, Balthasar , Gaspar and Melchior arrived twelve days after the birth of Jesus, bearing their famous gifts of gold, and frankincense and myrrh. A tad better than the gifts supplied by iTunes! In Spain, this is the day that people give and receive gifts, as children in the U.K and other countries might wait with great anticipation the arrival of Santa Claus, in Spain the children await the arrival of the Three Kings.

On January 5th in most Spanish towns is the "la cabalgata" (the calvacade) which is a parade marking the arrival of the Three Kings. The Three Kings ride on floats throwing candy to the children. In the Canary and Balaeric Islands the Three Kings arrive by ship!

After the parade the children return to their homes to prepare for the arrival of the Three Kings. They place their shoes on the windowsills and fill them with straw, carrots and barley for the donkeys of the Three Kings. Sometimes they might also leave some food for the Three Kings. I really don't think the donkey would touch anything that had been near, never mind in one of my shoes!

The next morning the children wake up early to open their presents. Although the children like all of the Three Kings, their favorite is Baltasar because he is the one who it is believed actually leaves the gifts. Greedy bastards!

The chap that drops by for a cup of tea introduced me to his mate yesterday. Jim happens to live not far from my sister in Banchory, Aberdeenshire. He wandered over later in the afternoon to have a look at my van as he is thinking he might get one. We got chatting and he asked why I have to run the engine a couple of times a day. I told him about the battery charging unit packing in. He has very kindly lent me a battery charger. Thus saving me the hassle of starting the engine and the resultant waste of fuel.

He's also invited me on a night out on Wednesday. To play darts with him and his mates. What is my life coming to when I'm going playing darts with a group of 70 year olds. I should be going disco dancing in Marbella !

After yesterday's disappointing trip to the supermarket, a weekly shop was definitely needed. Not least to replenish the wine stock. I usually walk but given I had quite a lot to get, and wine is quite heavy, I decided to take the van, despite the fact that it means going on the busy A7. Once you're on it, it's fine but, although it's a motorway you have to stop at the end of the slip road and wait for a gap, this is the hairy bit because, of course you are in a RHD vehicle . I negotiated this 'cannonball run' challenge OK but as I'm travelling down the A7 I notice that there is a considerable amount of shit coming out of the exhaust, also, the engine light has stayed on. Bollocks, not another problem. Eventually the smog cleared, if you hear of flights being cancelled into and out of Malaga on the news, it moi!

I put it on my (short!) list of 'things to do today'. Parking up in the Lidl car park I got my trolly and set about filling it with goodies. Not before doing my normal charitable deed of filling the Romanian begging ladies' Macdonalds cup with all my coppers. I seems every Lidl in Spain comes with a Romanian begging lady!

Trolly full of goodies I headed back to Camp Cabopino. Reading my Fiat manual it appears that the 'engine' light that won't go out means that I have an injection system failure (?). It could cause high emissions from the exhaust ( yep ) and possible lack of performance, poor handling and high consumption levels.... Oh dear!

It does however say it's ok to carry on driving but take it a fiat dealer ASAP. When it says OK to carry on driving, all the 1500 miles home?

Well..... That's OK then ;-0

I don't dislike cats! Apart from the one eyed Tom that keeps pissing up my front tyre.

Is it OK, to have a cat as a pet in a motorhome? To have a harness on it and take it for a walk ( nay drag it, because it clearly wasn't happy! ) I think that is Not OK. It was a lovely cat, Burmese blue I think. You could almost hear the ferrel cats sniggering as it was dragged past them. I'm sure I heard one of the say, in Spanish. 'Look at that fucking pussy!'






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Location:Artola,Spain

Day Thirty Two part 2 - Camping Cabopino

I've now used 1/4 of a tank of diesel recharging my leisure battery. Not sure how many can claim they have used £25 quids worth of fuel and gone nowhere. This means, if I stay for 3 months I will have used £75 quid to have lighting in the van! It would have been cheaper to stay at fucking home, despite the robbing energy companies!
I jest, it's still better here!

The weather has been beautiful today, a comfortable 21 degrees, in fact, I had a small sunbathe by the indoor pool this afternoon. Earplugs in. Very nice !

My pitch is not the best, when I renew I'm gonna insist on something a little more south facing. I do get the sun till about 12, after that it gets decidedly chilly as I move into the shade of the lonesome pine ( that sounds like a song title!)

I've now got my second chair out, it looks a little more welcoming and less sad. A older chappie from Essex, (I don't know his name, he did tell me but I think I forgot! ) pops by each morning and I make him a cup of PG tips. We have a banal conversation, then he goes on his way.

I've not been shopping for a few days, consequently I'm fresh out of wine. I have to confess, I feel quite vulnerable, is that a sign of something sinister?

Up till now, apart from my excursion to fraudulently secure a Repsol gas bottle, I haven't taken the van off the site. It's a lot of hassle. Putting the pots and pans away, securing everything and unhooking from the mains..... Actually, thinking on, it's not that much trouble.

To date I've done numerous wine and grocery runs or the local supermarket. It's not far, about 1k, but you can only get so much in a back pack and wine isn't light. Feck it, tomorrow I'll do a supermarket run in the van! Stock up to the gunnels.

Despite the fact that I've had better internet connections in the high Himalayan mountains, I have perused FaceBook. Albeit very slowly inbetween the silver surfers knitting patterns and them downloading the daily Suduko puzzle.

I'm all for giving to charity, indeed I have a couple of standing orders to my chosen ones. However, in the last few days I've had three FB messages that have quite perturbed me, ( was going to say annoyed but that's a bit too strong). Three of my friends want me to sponsor them to not drink for the month of January. Is it me? If I sponsor someone, they need to do something that is difficult, (run a marathon) potentially dangerous ( jump out of a plane) or Mad, (cycle the length of the UK). Stopping drinking for a month is not on that list. Sorry guys.......
Ps. I'm planning on going on holiday to the south of Spain to see if I can live in the back of a Campervan for a whole three months. Donations to Justgiving.livinginabox.com. All proceeds to pensioners in need.


I was never very good at science, especially physics. Can anyone tell me why Rum appears more viscous after it's been in the freezer?

Today I changed my FB profile picture. I think I'm going to make this a New Year's resolution, a little tardy but I'll do it anyway. The 1980 picture of me 'jumping' ( mum, you don't 'jump' over hurdles, you feckin hurdle over hurdles') over hurdles is just not current . I've resolved to change it each month.

For January, I've chosen a favourite photo. A few of the kids from Class One at Karma Samten Ling Monastery in Kathmandu. I worked there for just over four months in 2012 as a volunteer English teacher. I had a fantastic time, memories that will stay with me forever. It was nothing like I imagined. Living in a monastery, peace, tranquility and all that stuff. These kids were the same as any 5-12 year olds anywhere in the world. Fighting, lying, cheating, pissing in the stairwell outside the classroom. But I loved it. Something money can't buy. I would have tagged the kids using this very impressive FB tagging tool, but they all appeared to be called Rinchin, Temba or Tenzing.

Late this afternoon I got new neighbours, it's actually next door but one, I think word must of got round that I play abba and sing! They're British, I've not chatted to them yet but I will, they appear to have a portable washing machine and dryer. You can't have too many friends is my view.

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Location:Artola,Spain

Day Thirty Two - Camping Cabopino

I'm sorry iTunes, and I know it's not it the spirit of Christmas, but your 'Twelve Days of Christmas' was the only Christmas present I got and quite frankly, it was shite! Tomorrow is your last chance to redeem yourself!

So that's it, the twelfth night, it's over for another year. All the Chrissy lights are being taken down and it's back to normal at Camp Cabopino. I shouldn't, but I'm gonna hang onto my only Christmassy thing, the Cinnamon and Mulled wine air freshener, there is still over half of it left and it'd be a shame to start the new year being wasteful.

I had my first 'medical' event this morning! I've been very lucky in my life, I've only ever been to hospital three times in 54 years, once when I was six, I gashed my ankle on the exposed spit pin on my scooter. The second time I was thirty something and fell 8 ft down the open staircase from my attic, managing to pull a wardrobe on top of me and ended up with my shoulder out of its socket and sitting where my pectoral muscle should reside.

The third time was only two years ago. I was when taking a cargo boat from El Nido to Coron in the Philippines. To we did it to save about £3. The cargo was water buffalo and chickens. I put my foot through the rotting deck and got it impaled on a rusty nail that was doubtless also covered in buffalo shit and chicken piss. The result a rather unpleasant infection. The strong painkillers and antibiotics soon ate up the £3 savings although the resultant hallucinations were worth it on their own. Negotiating to get across the Brunei border with a group of immigration officials dressed as munchkins, in glorious technicolor to boot!

Watching 24 hours in A and E makes me think there are plenty of times I could have attended the emergency department. People appear to go with a spit finger nail!

I guess I'm pretty pain tolerant. That could be down to being an ex 400 hurdler, the last 80 metres feels like you have a bear on your back playing the grand piano, now that hurts!

As I was getting my coco pops (!!) this morning, happily singing away to Abba (how gay is that?) I crashed the side of my head straight into the cupboard that I had foolishly left open. It bloody hurt. I've already whacked myself twice closing the back door of the van, forgetting the fact I have a bike carrier attached to it so I'm pretty used to hurting heads.

With a quick 'fuckshit' and a quick rub I sat down to eat my coco pops and read the BBC news. Within seconds the chocolate flavoured milk was taking on a strange hue as blood dripped, quite quickly from the end of my nose into my bowl. My first reaction was "don't get it on the upholstery ! I quickly ripped off my T-shirt and held it to my head then went to inspect the damage in the bathroom mirror.

It's only a small cut but Christ it's bleeding a lot. Within 5 minutes it had stopped so I got on with the job in hand and finished my, now soggy, coco pops.

Anyone walking past my shower cubicle later that morning must have thought a scene from psyco was occurring as the dried blood from my matted hair mixed with the water and headed towards the communal drain. No one said anything though, that it itself is a worry. Thoughtless gypsy bastards.

I'm now thinking I should perhaps fix something soft around all the sharp edges of things that are head height to prevent any further injury. Those noodle things that kids use as a swimming aid should work just fine. That or wearing a cycling helmet for the rest of the trip.

I'm not going to trouble the local A and E department, I'm sure they have more important injuries to take care of.

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Location:Artola,Spain

Day Thirty One - Cabopino Camping

Today, I've been on the road, living as a gypsy, in the back of a van for exactly one month. To be fair, the 'back of a van' is infinitely more palacios and indeed spacious than some of the places I stayed while I was back packing around South East Asia. Am I claustrophobic or sick of it yet, not a bit of it. Ready for the next month.... Bring it on.

Christmas was a bit strange, I've never spent it on my own before. True, I've got neighbours and we have a chat, wish each other merry Christmas and all that, but sitting down to a Christmas dinner on your own is a bit alien. That said, a few glasses of wine and laid back watching a video and I couldn't give a fuck. I actually enjoyed it.

The camp site was packed over the Christmas holiday. Discussing it with one of the other Brits here (don't think he's a criminal avoiding British justice) he tells me it really quietens down after the 6th January.... Quietens down... Jesus, they'll be bringing mirrors around in the morning to see if we're still breathing if it gets any quieter.

Do you remember asking your granny if she'd had a good Christmas? She'd reply ' yes love, had a lovely time, but quiet'. Try coming here! Quiet!!! Too fuckin right.

The most exciting thing that happened between Christmas and new year was a child shat in the pool!
" Mummy, does Poo float?" Is not what you really want to hear on your 57th lap of the indoor pool. What followed would have made a great youtube video. Indeed, poo does float. I did continue to do my laps while through the corner of my speedo goggles watched 'mummy' try the capture the said poo. She was trying to capture it with the diaper she had, perhaps foolishly removed from that child. How something that size got evacuated from a child that small is beyond me. Eventually it was captured and the culprits whisked themselves away. No damage done, I did the remaining 43 laps, mouth firmly shut, breathing through my nose.

Apparently, with each motorhome and caravan pitch you get a cat, not to keep and take home, but to ensure the indigenous rodents are kept down to a manageable level. My own thoughts are this is a ruse to try and explain the presence of a few too many ferrel critters. One would have thought a few strategically placed rat traps laced with poison would have done the trick.

We aren't encouraged to feed these feline guards. The camp rule book states

" Camping Cabopino is now collaborating with Triple A, a rescue and shelter agency for the protection of animals, to regulate the population of cats on the campsite, necessary to control the numbers of rodents who inhabit the site and surrounding area. The cats are fed at and, must only be fed at, established feeding stations situated throughout the site. Please do not interfere with these feeding arrangements."

Failure to comply will lead to a 50 euro fine. Now maybe I'm being a bit slow here but if you need so many cats to keep the rats away, don't the cats eat the rats and so do away with the need to feed them....?

The cat that protects my pitch appears to be the 'cock' of the block. A ginger tabby with one eye. Not wanting to attract the wrath of the camp management and a €50 fine, I've not fed him, that appears not to be going down too well. Each morning he glares and me (through one eye) then strolls over, nay swanks over, to my van and pisses up the front tyre. I don't find this kind of behaviour endearing at all. The catapult I had in Kathmandu to fend of the monkeys would have come in useful here!









I've had some nice neighbours over the Christmas and New Year holidays. A Swedish couple in a 'fuck off' motorhome to my right and a very nice Spanish couple in a caravan on my left. The Spanish couple have a child who, if I didn't know better is Dora the Explorer. Except, she cries a lot. I don't think Dora cries at all, unless Boots has been murdered by swiper. Ha ha... How do I know about Dora? TEFL teachers all know about Dora!

The Spanish couple are lovely, stop for a pigeon Spanish chat every morning. Doing my Spanish vocabulary a load of good. When they originally arrived Juan came with his mate, I think they had a falling out on New Year's Day because after some raised voices in the night he was gone. Juan left today with a wave and 'hasta luego' from Dora.

I've continued by swimming religiously, 2.5km every day, apart from Christmas Day when the pool was shut. I've rigged up a washing line to dry my towels and trunks. After Juan, his wife and Dora had left this morning I noticed that a pair of trunks were missing. For an awful moment, I thought than Dora's nemesis, Swipe had stolen them. I was not far wrong, the one eyed cat was sleeping in my picnic chair with his face nestled in my best swimming trunks. How he'd got them I've no idea. He got a clip as I snatched them back and ejected him from the chair. He promptly pissed up my front tyre!

I know it's sad but, when you're travelling or on your own, the iTunes 'Twelve days of Christmas' is something to look forward to, not that it's been that spectacular this year. However, they did give you 'Home Alone' the movie, free this year. I've never seen it, so thought it was a good idea to download it. I'm running out of DVD's and watching Rocky Balboa again is enough to make you want to eat you're young.

To be fair, I've had better internet connections in the third world! Slow is not in it. What would usually have taken an hour to download took almost 60 hours. I can only assume I was competing with the silver surfers downloading knitting patterns or the like. Eventually the welcome 'ding' of a completed download and last night I watched it. Not a bad film either ! I liked it best when the oldies didn't know about computers or the interweb. Life was so much easier.

So... The first month.... I like being a gypo, nomad, traveller or the like I'm not keen on eating and drinking from melamine, not that I'm posh but it's just not my preference. Reminds me of school dinners and the plates are too small. Emptying my cassette toilet, I'm really not sure I drink that much fluid (wine perchance?) . I'm enjoying it. I should leave here and head up the coast on the 14th. I'm tempted to stay a little longer (or is that laziness?)

We'll see.






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Location:Artola,Spain

Day Twenty Three - Christmas Day part 2

Towards mid morning on Christmas Day the rain stopped and the wind died down. Now the weather was looking a bit better I ventured out. I needed to do the dishes from this morning.

What is it with Germans? There are four sinks at the shower block for doing dishes. Of course, I could have done them in the van but the hassle of driving to the motorhome service point each morning to get rid of all the waste water makes that a bit pointless. Besides which, the sites hot water is free!
At the washing point were two Germans, happily washing away, each with a large pile of dishes and each taking up two sinks. Despite seeing me waiting they continued, leisurely chatting to each other, using one sink to wash and the adjoining sink to drain. Totally oblivious to the fact I was waiting. It's behaviour like this that causes wars. Selfish gypsy German bastards! I'll mention it to my German friend in Dusseldorf. Of course, she'll claim they are Bavarian and the Bavarians are quite different from normal Germans.

Eventually one of the 'Bavarian' Germans finished and I quickly got my breakfast pots washed. I'm quite impressed with my new non stick camping saucepans. They are actually non stick and this mornings scrambled eggs just dropped off the inside. I wonder how long that'll last?

It was only after wandering around the site that you could see how bad the winds last night actually were. A number of trees had broken branches and there appeared to be quite a bit of damage. An elderly English couple I'd been speaking to appeared worst affected. A huge branch off the adjoining pine tree had fallen on their awning and wind break and wrecked both, it did also leave about a dozen pine cones and together with the smell of myrrh was very Christmassy, albeit in a not too Christmassy for them way.

They were in the process of clearing up and I stopped to have a chat. Annie, the English lady had a black eye and a rather nasty gash above it. "What happened" I enquired "Oh, don't ask" she replied.
Given that Christmas is historically a period of domestic violence, I didn't ask.
I suspect that she'd been hit upon the head by the falling branch rather than beaten by her husband Tim, but I didn't pursue it. Best not too!

Today, being Christmas Day and all that, the swimming pool is closed. I'm not sure why, it's not as if it's manned with a strapping Spanish lifeguard or anything. The majority of time I've been swimming, I've been the only one on the pool. I'm now feeling a bit guilty having missed swimming yesterday due to my alcohol induced fragile disposition. Hopefully tomorrow I can continue my quest for a body like Tom Daly.

Surprisingly the bar is closed too. It was actually closed last night, Christmas Eve. Not that drinking alcohol was the top of my 'things to do' agenda last night. Strange, the cleaners are out, the bins are being emptied three times a day as usual but the bar and the pool are closed!

Although I didn't feel nearly as bad as I did yesterday morning, I still felt in need of a bit of fresh air so decided to take myself off to the beach and a walk by the sea's edge. Spending only a few minutes there I decided it was a bad idea. Although the rain had ceased, on the shoreline the wind was blowing strongly off a sea that looked more like the irish sea in the depths of winter than the Mediterranean. Within minutes I was soaked. Giving that up as a bad job I headed back to the site. A hot shower and start preparing the Christmas lunch.


So much for the hot shower, it's those fucking Germans again! Used all the hot water! Tepid at best, I did think, think hard about coming back later. Bugger, I decided, if I can live with the monks in the in the Kathmandu valley, for four months, with no running, never mind hot water, I can put up with this. Head down and in!

Once spruced up, complete with shave, it was back to the van and Christmas lunch. My turkey crown turned out to be chicken (a big fucker!) it had been thawing since early this morning. Veg prepped, paxo balls rolled and it's all in that little oven. Jesus, there's a lot going on in there! Better facilities than the 'unit' in the middle of the South Australian desert two years ago where I cooked a full turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

I even made my own Yorkshire puddings! Complete with onions and herbs. Iceland in town did actually sell aunt Bessie's but I resisted. To be fair, they weren't my best, although better than those in the south Australian desset. There I'd bought a 'pancake mix' , thinking it was the same difference, added onion and herbs and when I tasted it, it was sweet.. While this was the real McCoy, I did cook it in a small frying pan like a pancake,

Two hours later, bingo. A dinner fit for a king. A bottle of white was opened, for the gravy of course. By the time dinner was served I was about 7 on the Richter scale of sloshedness. It tasted all the better.

Now, I'm not a greedy boy but those melamine camping plates are too small for a 'fuck off' Christmas lunch. Out comes the matching serving platter. Good enough for me!

A small bottle of fizz, half a bottle of red and that's me done, replete and happy.

The kite runner on DVD, a buffet plate of bits and at 9:30 I'm in my bed. At 12:30 I'm wide awake and eating again, what is it about Christmas that brings out the glutton?

Can't say I'm not glad it's over for another year. Happy Christmas, Joyaux Noël, Feliz Navidad everyone.































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Location:Cabopino - Calahonda - Spain