I would say that the Bezzies breezed into Tarifa but that understates the strength of the gale they blew in on. The sand on Valdevaqueros beach was threatening dermabrasion again, the washing stood horizontal on the rotary line drier and R0X1 was dancing a jig. None of us slept well that night; we are justifiably blaming it on the wind gusts of 45mph and consequent van movements, but equally it could have been blamed on the amount of alcohol imbibed. Well, we haven’t seen each other for 7 months and had to celebrate catching up, Rose’s successful surgery, birthdays which all of us have had since we last saw one another, Christmas, New Year, numerous Saints days and most importantly none of us yet having had our obituaries published.
Understandably we spent a fairly quiet time exploring Tarifa’s old walled town yesterday, had lunch, did a Mercadona (food) shop and got back to the site in the nick of time. Whilst we’d been out the Dutch version of a CCC rally had turned up and well over a dozen van drivers wanted to squash as close together as possible. We prevented the imminent storming of R&S’s pitch (on which it has to be admitted, we had failed to spread our towels) and half a dozen (people not vans) had to be evicted from my pitch and the sunny spot immediately behind R0X1 where they had planted themselves in their chairs in blatant occupation of English territory and in direct contravention of the Campsite Code of Behaviour. As my regular reader will know I have a very soft spot for the Dutch but the cheeky request from one for all of them to remain seated there met a negative response.
🙂 🙂 🙂