Kindred spirits …

But first, a couple of photos from Platja d’Aro after the storms there, I’d forgotten I had them on the iPhone …

Daisy and I went into Tarragona by train today, it was quite a long walk to the station made worse by the shortest route being via the beach …

In Tarragona, once again I was intrigued by the street art all around, the painted bollards particularly caught my eye as did the plastic carrier bags suspended from the washing lines. There was a little girl playing amongst the bollards and shrieking with laughter but she and her mother left before I could ask to include her in the photo. Lots of Roman ruins and I would have loved to have visited the Spanish version of the Pont du Garde but it was another 8km round trip and I’d already exhausted the pup.

On the way back to the station I noticed a lot of stalls and of course had to go and investigate. It seemed to be a local community bazaar with all the stalls run by various charities. One charity’s name leapt out at me, it was called Associació Asperger del Camp de Tarragona. JJ has gained so much from three different charities at home Camp Mohawk, the Me too Club and the Train club that I felt it would be appropriate to donate in his name. Unfortunately neither of the ladies at the stall spoke either English or French. Luckily a young lady on the next door stall was able to translate for me and explain that my grandson is Aspie. It turned out that I had that in common with one of the ladies; we made an instant bond, shared hugs and kisses and declared our Aspie boys the best. I came away humbled by the experience, realising that despite our differences our similarities with strangers are, by far, stronger and that leaves me smiling.

🙂 🙂 🙂

Rear end problems

The last week in Wales was a bit marred by rear end problems;

– for Daisy who is having troubles with over active anal glands

– for R0X1 after an argument with a Welsh wall

– for me after I poisoned myself with my own cooking

I’m presuming no-one is interested in greater elaboration so here are some final scenes from our Welsh sojourn.

Daisy enjoyed an afternoon at Barmouth beach.

Snowdonia.

🙂 🙂 🙂

Ou est Norbert?

Made it to my first Aire without incident, which has to be more by luck than judgement as I was, as we say here, tres, tres, fatigued. Got bumped up to the 03.20 ferry yesterday as I was a bit early at Dover and after landing from an almost empty ferry proceeded to Le Crotoy near Abbeville. It was a dark and foggy journey which was not ideal given my lack of sleep and I have to admit to 3 Nanna naps during my first day, as my colonial friend (whose recent visit was much enjoyed) would say.

Parked by the sand dunes and had some lovely walks (between naps) along the vast beach of the tidal estuary of the R. Somme. Stuffed myself with baguette, cold meat and goat’s cheese as I was too tired to cook.

Early night, up early and arrived in Chartres mid afternoon. Quickish Carrefour shop, well you can’t shop as quickly in French, it all has to be translated in the head (including the “Madame you forgot to weigh your onions” from the lass at the checkout!) but I eventually found the boeuf hache, the vin was much easier! Now ensconced in a lovely wooded campsite right in the centre of the city near the cathedral; it’s amazingly quiet.

French roads, apart from being confusing as some of them are numbered twice, are great, much less traffic but despite the 213 miles so far travelled in France I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Norbert. Given how much one sees of him at home (and I always say Bonjour) I’m surprised I haven’t seen him once in his own country. M. Dentressangle bring your lorries home, all is forgiven!

🙂 🙂 🙂