MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR DECEMBER 1998

ENGLAND AND FRANCE

What follows are extracts from a diary we kept during our travels in mainland Europe by motorhome, bicycle and sometimes motorbike in the years since we early-retired in 1995

01 DECEMBER 1998 GB BURLEIGH HILL FARM, ST IVES, HUNTS

Another bitterly cold, dark day. Barry visited Eve and Jim again and left the end-of-year newsletter for copying at Swavesey Village College (2p a page + VAT, compared with 8p in St Ives!) Margaret worked on the diary backlog, still in October.

We woke to thick frost outside and wrapped up for a ride to the shopping centre on Ramsey Road a couple of miles away. While our dhobi was going round we bought Christmas stamps for the annual mailshot and got small items from the well-stocked hardware shop (stainless steel sink strainers, dowelling to mend Eve's chair, a gadget to collect fur in the kettle, etc). The owner talked sadly of the demise of the local specialist, as everyone now jumps in the car and drives to an out-of-town superstore (or 'shed') for their DIY stuff, often paying more. His contempt for Homebase and Do-it-all was only matched by that of our farmer for Tesco, etc. After the recent Panorama programme on the gross profits of the supermarkets at the expense of their suppliers and customers alike, we vowed to support small shopkeepers when possible and made a start by buying bread and bananas at the nearby Spar. We collected the laundry, got some fish and chips to carry back and returned, ignoring a Co-op Superstore on the way.

After lunch we stamped 75 envelopes ready for the newsletter and Barry checked all Rosie's liquid levels. There is a handy tap by the hook-up for fresh water, but a long walk across the field with buckets to the waste disposal point. Margaret continued diary-writing, with October almost finished.

Barry spent another day with Eve and Jim and collected the copied newsletters. Margaret did some mending and finished typing the October diary; then forward to put December up to date, and back to begin November! The weather is cold, the daylight hours very short, with a promise of sleet/snow to come! The fan heater is barely enough to keep the chill at bay, the electric blanket most welcome.

We wrote to Martin and Clare, got half the annual newsletters ready for the post and cycled into St Ives with them after lunch. The twice weekly market was just packing up, the Christmas lights lit the high street, the clear air was bitterly cold. Barry's right eye is sore again and we went to Cromwell Road Surgery but the doctor couldn't see him till Monday. While there he got a typhoid vaccination from the nurse, with no ill effects. Back home in the early darkness to bake a pre-Xmas treat, apple and mincemeat crumble with plenty of rum!

Thick frost, light snow, then big flakes covering the field - we were pleased to stay home and top & tail the rest of the newsletters. The snow stopped after lunch but the pale sun failed to melt it. Barry mended the floor grills and other odd jobs and Margaret made Yorkshire parkin and 2 date & walnut cakes. Baking boosts the temperature a bit, keeping it above 60º (it falls back to 40º inside overnight).

Icy roads and thick frost but dry and crisp. A 9-mile 40-minute ride on quiet lanes, via St Ives and the little thatched village of Fen Drayton to Swavesey, bearing gifts of cakes and wine. We thawed our toes with coffee by the fire before going with Eve in her car to a Tesco Superstore (what happened to our vows?) Cooking, eating and talking over an extended Indian vegetarian meal took until dusk and we rode back early, before the roads froze over again.

We rode back into St Ives with the last of the Christmas mail and shopped at the market, getting excellent cheese, bacon and 'Have you seen my wife's pork pies' as well as fruit and vegetables. We did feel more at home there than in Tesco. Barry's eye has recovered so he didn't return to the doctor.

An early lunch before driving to Swavesey for a final night or two in Eve's yard, though Rosie was in no hurry. Starting reluctantly, she moved to the field gate, stopping to empty the waste waters, then refused to start again. Barry spent an hour underneath the engine, the farmer came along to make encouraging noises and offer the use of his phone and Swarfega, Margaret brewed tea and looked out the RAC Rescue number, but at last the problem was traced to 2 corroded connections on the starter relay. Barry had to disconnect the batteries, clean and grease all the contacts and reconnect them, lying on his back in the muddy field with his nose a few inches from the engine and chassis. He finished up shivering and in need of a hot bath, but Rosie leapt into life and continued to start better than she has for a long time.

And so to Eve's, where we parked with an inch to spare all round. We had baths, talked to Jim who is heavily into playing 'Quake' on the Internet, and Barry began mending a few wobbly legs on Eve's antique furniture (chair, stools, tea trolley) while Margaret made cheese and veg risotto. We made our choice from Eve's magnificent video collection and all watched 'Braveheart', the story of William Wallace, the early 14thC Scottish nationalist, superbly acted, directed and produced by Mel Gibson. It was stunning.

9 miles. Free night.

Margaret used Eve's washing machine, rang mum and tried in vain to track down a pre-pay digital mobile phone (as advertised in this week's 'Radio Times'). Every phone shop in Cambridge claimed to be sold out for Christmas.

After lunch Eve took us into Saffron Walden where we bought books (ex-Oxfam for ourselves and new ones for her birthday) but again the phone shop was sold out of suitable mobiles. We also got Eve an amber pendant for Christmas (part of her crystal and colour therapy) and the DIY bits for 2 wardrobe rails.

Back at the cottage she made us a chicken tikka masala supper and we watched the multi-Oscar-winning 'English Patient'. Well filmed, though we didn't find the story very convincing. Another late night, talking and sipping Advocaat.

A damp foggy day, with Eve away at a meeting in Cambridge. Barry put up the wardrobe rails, finished other DIY jobs and spent time with Jim. Margaret walked up to the Village College to photocopy the October diary and get some local sausage and potatoes for the Bangers & Mash we'd promised Jim for supper.

We also took advantage of a comfortable telephone to plan our next moves, booking a visit to Berkshire Motorcaravans tomorrow (with free overnight parking), the P&O ferry from Portsmouth to Cherbourg next Tuesday, and a hardstanding pitch on Plant Farm CL near Portsmouth in between. Southsea Caravan Park, nearer the town, was open but full.

Later we watched our third movie, which Eve had just bought and not yet seen - 'Titanic'. It was certainly of epic proportions, with amazing special effects, even if we were all quite pleased when the youthful 'hero' drowned!

We posted mum's letter with the October diary (November still needs completing), said our goodbyes, sorry to be leaving Eve and Jim, and set out in winter sunshine. First stop at services on the M11 to make lunch and buy diesel (hoping it's the last time at English price) and post Eve her key which we'd inadvertently taken. Then on to the M25 and M4, the weather turning to rain. Another pause to brew up on services near Reading which (like every one we've used) had a £5 parking fee for staying over 2 hours. Then to Chieveley, near Newbury, just north of M4 exit 13, arriving at Berkshire Motorcaravans at 4.30, and already very dark. They offered overnight parking with free hook-up to customers, though we left visiting their accessory shop until morning.

136 miles. Free parking.

Damp and misty, but warmer, for the last leg of the journey to the coast, after buying an extra electric cable and other bits from Berkshire Motorcaravans' shop. We drove south on the A34 (including the controversial Newbury Bypass, which certainly does cut a swathe through the woods), made coffee at the services north of Winchester, then M27 to Portsmouth. The small caravan park (a CL listed in both clubs' books) is 5 miles north, on the A3 near Waterlooville. The main field is boggy grass but we stood at the edge of the yard with hook-up, and water and toilet were available. Barry did some major re-wiring to install the new longer electric cable before rain set in and darkness fell.

66 miles. £6.50 inc elec.

We cycled into Portsmouth on the misty, horribly busy A3 and eventually found the town centre. Commercial Road, the main shopping street, was packed with Christmas shoppers, market stalls and a Sally Army band. In the Vodafone phone shop the extremely helpful Mr Suhail Khan said that pre-pay digitals could not be used abroad at present (perhaps later next year), but he could do us a deal with a 12-month contract on Vodafone Leisure 180 with a Bosch handset - a Christmas special offer which hasn't even been advertised yet. Vodafone in Huddersfield hadn't mentioned this, in fact they'd said nothing reasonably priced would work in southern Europe. Mr Khan claimed his would work virtually anywhere! He helped us through the formalities and complications of proving a registered address and arranging a direct debit for the monthly bill - it was fortunate that he liked us and believed our story - and after half an hour we had a phone and a number! We insured it, bought it a leather case and promised it a good home.

By now it was raining and McDonald's was packed with families fighting over what they were getting for Christmas. Among the market stalls was a superb hot dog stand, so we bought their best jumbo size with mugs of tea. Heavy rain had set in and we gave up the idea of visiting the 'Mary Rose' and other historic ships, just pleased to find the Tourist Office and get a good map of the centre showing the most direct route back to Plant Farm. We looked for the AA office on London Road en route (to renew international driving licences ready for Morocco) but it had closed. Instead we did it ourselves with a blue pen - the one dated from 1995 changed easily to 1998!

Back home we spent a couple of hours learning to use the new phone, ringing Eve and Mum and being rung back. We stored a few numbers to use, registered it for the Air Miles scheme and requested the International Roaming Guide. It is very clear and easy to use, and just delightful to sit inside warm and dry while on the telephone! If it works as well from abroad, communication will be much simpler.

Barry gave Rosie a wash and re-located her new blindspot mirrors while Margaret worked on the diary. We also used our new phone to ring Martin, who rang us back on getting the message - what a treat, to talk to him then hand him over to Barry outside - the novelty made us all laugh! He told us of a good article on Morocco in January's Motor Caravan Magazine (MMM's rival publication). They still haven't sold the house in Matlock, but hope to hit the road soon. Maybe they'll even join us in Portugal (if lots of gods are willing).

We also rang Stan & Celia's daughter (sounded exactly like Celia) for news of their whereabouts in Spain and learnt we'd just missed them, home on a flying visit for Stan's brother's funeral. Now they're back at Camping Azahar at Orpesa, on the coast north of Valencia, till Christmas, when they join friends in a villa at Calpe, near Benidorm. After that she didn't know but will pass on our greeting and phone number. Then a call to Steve & Glen Swatman's daughter for news of them - also in Spain, at Camping Almanzora at Almeria but not for long, as they'll be home in January before going to New Zealand. Again, we left our number and greetings.

A strong wind has dispelled the mist and rain - not good news for sailing! We cycled a mile inland on the A3 to the small town of Waterlooville, to post our last letters (to Ram in India; Sally, Dick & Audrey in USA) and buy our last English cheese, bread, crumpets and teacakes for the freezer from Kwiksave. Barry rang the Bosch Helpline to ask about recharging the phone with the inverter when we don't have a mains hook-up and was assured it would be OK (which saves buying an in-car charger). We had lunch in McDonald's and found the Motor Caravan Magazine with the 'Road to Morocco' article.

Back at Plant Farm we cleaned and packed ready for the road, caught up on reading and diary-writing, rang Alan and watched a last evening of British TV.

A wet, misty day for the short drive to the ferry terminal for the 1.15 pm P&O sailing to Cherbourg. Waiting to board, we changed money for FF and made sandwiches for the voyage. The 5-hour crossing was calm, the boat very quiet. We sat and talked with the only other motorhomers on board, 2 couples from London travelling together to Spain for 5 months. One pair had toured in Morocco and advised entering through Ceuta rather than Tangier - being a Spanish enclave the customs formalities are much easier. They, and the article we showed them in the MCM magazine, reminded us of the need for cigarettes for 'backsheesh' and we bought our full quota at the Duty Free shop, which was full of special offers. 400 Benson & Hedges came with a free bottle of Spanish wine; 2 boxes of Anton Berg liqueur chocs gave 1 free; and a giant box of sweets brought the total to over £40 to qualify for a 2-litre box of good French wine. Then a surprise Christmas mid-week 10% discount made the total below £40, but we still got a wine-box!

Also on board we registered with the Air Miles scheme (the Vodafone will also collect points), claiming 57 for our £114 fare. This promised discounts on future P&O crossings, and the air miles can be used towards ferry fares as well as air tickets. The scheme is free to join, so we can't lose!

We landed on time at 6.15 (7.15 French time) and drove out of the exit and back in the entrance to a large empty car park (for people waiting for a ferry) for a mild night alongside the other 2 British motorhomes. The Cherbourg Terminal buildings were splendid, shared by P&O and Brittany Ferries (who sail from here to Rosselare and to Poole), and the deepwater harbour claims to be the largest artificial harbour in the world, with military, fishing, commercial and yachting ports. We tried the Vodafone but it had not yet got international clearance.

12 miles. Free parking.

A very misty drive on wonderfully uncongested roads, south down the Cherbourg peninsula. Gradually relaxing into the French ambience, we bought diesel at a civilised price near Coutances, stopped on the spacious empty car park of an Intermarché superstore to make lunch, and relished the freedom. Bypassing Granville, we remembered an early cycle ride from St Malo to Caen (one Britanny Ferries port to another, while the car waited in Portsmouth). By mid-afternoon we reached Mont St Michel, where another large empty car park had a special area and price (30 FF) for vehicles overnighting. After a pot of tea it was a short walk to the walled entrance of the mount, with its abbey perched on the pinnacle of rock. A stiff climb up the cobbled, winding street, lined with restaurants, hotels and souvenir shops, then steps leading to the abbey. We didn't pay 40 FF each to enter, but enjoyed the views all round of the sea and the watery landscape.

The first chapel was built on this deserted rock in 709 by St Aubert (bishop of Avranches) and dedicated to the archangel St Michel. In 966 Benedictine monks built an abbey there and pilgrimages developed through the middle ages, the abbey being enlarged in the 13thC. In 1791 the monks had to leave and for 75 years it became a prison. In 1922 it was reconsecrated and since 1969 a community of monks and nuns of St Benoît are in residence. On the way down we paused at the smaller parish church of St Pierre (free), which was built in the 17thC for the village which grew up below the abbey, and which has been the sanctuary for pilgrims since 1886. They still come, barefoot across the sands, for the Grands Pèlerinages. Its main treasure is a silver-covered statue of St Michel killing a dragon, originally made for the abbey in 1877. Enough history; we walked back to the car park as dusk fell (an hour later here) and the floodlights illuminated the mount, shimmering eerily in the mist. A giant Christmas tree at the entrance with fairy lights and a flashing star on top, and a French camping car parked nearby, helped dispel our anxiety about the quicksands and tides around us!

The Vodafone is now receiving a French signal (Itineris) and we tested it by ringing mum (out at a Trefoil party). She rang us back later but got our message service, and we got a signal to recall the message, which we did! Not sure if this was a fault, or because the lines were busy, but we did learn how to open our mailbox.

96 miles. £3.16 parking.

We drove south to Rennes, then to St Nazaire via Redon. (More memories, of our very first cycle tour together when we took a train from St Malo to Redon, changing in Rennes, before riding along the Loire to Orléans, Easter 1987!) Today was misty, quiet, with a lunch stop in a little park by the Nantes-Brest canal near Redon. At St Nazaire we crossed the mouth of the Loire on the splendid toll-free suspension bridge. Then south down the Atlantic coast to Beauvoir-sur-Mer, where we turned 5 miles inland in search of a camping site featured in October's MMM, which sounded ideal - open all year, run by a friendly English family, free hot showers, hook-ups, lots of hot water, etc. So we found Le Fief Angibaud at St Gervais, and will never trust MMM reports again! A small farm down a lane with a muddy field, no sign of any facilities, no-one home except the free-range cats and hens, no suggestion that it was open for camping, nowhere to park and soon it would be dark. We decided not to wait and returned to the coast road which ran parallel with the shore, separated from it by the Forest of Monts. We reached the sea at the first little resort, Notre Dame de Monts, and followed signs indicating Parking for Camping Cars. They led to a free car park just behind the sea-front, with water and waste grid and one Hymer in residence. The water had been turned off for winter but the friendly French woman living in the Hymer with her black labrador explained where to fill up, at a boat-hire place on the promenade. We followed her advice, then returned to park for the night.

172 miles. Free parking.

A wet day, but warmer. We followed the coast south, past many campsites (all firmly closed as expected) but were surprised at the development of new housing and holiday homes with plenty of shops and good roads (with lots of new roundabouts!) The only town en route, Les Sables d'Olonne, had a superstore centre with McDonald's, where we stopped for lunch. The Visa-card eating diesel pump didn't like English food and spat it out, so we had to pay more further down the road at Avrillé. Back to the coast at La Tranche sur Mer, where our map showed a lighthouse on the point, backed by pine forest and a floral centre, which seemed good for a night halt. In fact, it was marooned in an estate of new holiday homes, but again signs directed us to a free Aire de Camping Cars next to the sports centre (where they're often found in Germany) with waste disposal, phone box, toilets and taps, max stay 24 hours. Why can't the English . . . ?

In the evening we rang mum to thank her for the recent message and make sure she could get through to us, which eventually succeeded, and also got Eve to ring back. We need to extend the time it rings before diverting callers to the mailbox.

70 miles. Free parking.

Enough winter sun to give a small reading on the solar panels over breakfast (which never happened in the UK since we arrived in early October - the sky is just too overcast there). We drove on minor lanes across the Marais marshlands to La Rochelle, with only one hold-up where a boat on a trailer was caught on the overhead Christmas illuminations! Then the main coast road to Rochefort, with a coffee stop among the dunes of a nature reserve. In Rochefort the good news was finding LPG (or GPL) to fill our gas tank, the bad news was a 3.5 ton limit through the town and a confusing Déviation, so that we detoured via Saintes to Royan for the ferry across the mouth of the Gironde to Pointe de Grave, which we've used both driving and cycling in the past. The next sailing was at 2.45, just time to park and have lunch before the 25 minute crossing. Rosie's handbrake was put to the test as the deck pitched beneath her and we watched anxiously from above, but Frenchies had done a good job. Disembarking at the northern tip of the Médoc, we followed signs to a camping car park at La Chambrette beach, on the river shore of Le Verdon sur Mer, about 2 miles away. Here we joined a Dutch Hymer on a free car park with waste dump (but needing tokens for water or electricity).

Turning the Vodafone on, we had a message from Glen Swatman, about to leave Spain for England for Christmas on the N10 through Bayonne. The system is working, but we also used a nearby phone box to keep the cost of our own calls down. We rang Vodafone's help line about extending the time our phone rings before diverting a call to the mailbox and successfully changed it to 30 seconds. Also checked that we can listen to a message by ringing our mailbox from any phone (not just our mobile), and rang campsites in the Caravan Club book to check what was open over Christmas (one down the coast at Hossegor, north of Biarritz).

115 miles. Free parking.

We heard the wind and rain gathering force in the night and by morning Rosie was swaying like a boat on her exposed mooring. Clearly a rest day was due after 4 days' driving. We braved a short walk into the village in search of tokens for the hook-up and found some at the Restaurant Les Deux Fourchettes (10 FF each for 1 hour's power or 100 litres of water - to be used sparingly).

The rest of a blustery day was spent reading, writing the diary and marzipanning the Christmas cakes. We had 3 hours of electricity in the evening, for watching a video of 'The Bill' and heating ourselves, the water and the bed!

£5.20 electricity tokens.

We used our last 2 tokens at Le Verdon for an hour's heating and a fill of fresh water, dumped the waste and headed south. The gale had subsided, the weather bright and clear. Our minor road ran a few miles inland of the coast, separated from the sea by dunes and pine forest, beyond which lay Montalivet-les-Bains (nudist capital of Europe, with many naturist campsites). At Hourtin we turned off to Hourtin Port on the Lac d'Hourtin-Carcans (France's largest lake) for coffee, then on quiet roads through the woods, via Carcans and Lacanau to Andernos-les-Bains, an oyster port on the Arcachon Basin. We parked by the little marina, watching the tide rush in as we had lunch.

Crossing the motorway for Bordeaux, only 20 miles away, we continued on arrow-straight roads through Les Landes de Gascogne to Sanguinet and Parentis-en-Born, where we turned off for a mile to Le Lac. There was a Museum of Petroleum and Esso had some small rigs in the lake (Etang de Biscarosse et de Parentis) but it was very tranquil with a few boats and fishermen and a free Aire de Camping Cars which we had to ourselves for the night of the Winter Solstice.

108 miles. Free parking.

Thick frost in the woods and ice on all the ditches, glinting in the winter sunshine. Entering Mimizan, we turned into Leclerc's superstore for bargain diesel (3.89 FF/ litre) Barry made coffee while Margaret shopped for food, resisting all the gourmet Christmas specialities in search of bread, cheese, ham, greengrocery and a small turkey, except for indulging in a tranche de pâté en croûte which made a delicious lunch (the nearest thing to a pork pie!) We drove a further 5 miles to Mimizan-Plage to eat it by the sea, found an excellent Aire de Camping Cars on the south beach, with unmetered water and electricity for 30 FF per day and decided to stay. We tucked ourselves in the shelter of the sand dune, with German neighbours in a Clou, bought a daily ticket from a machine and hooked up. (Low current but we've plenty of gas for cooking and heating.) In the afternoon we walked round the little seaside resort on either side of the estuary, remembering it from previous visits. We had spent a night here when cycling south from Rochefort one Easter, and had come in the car on our way to the Pyrenees for Christmas 10 years ago! Mimizan also featured in one of Barry's long bike rides of yesteryear - Roscoff in Britanny to Santander in northern Spain.

Once a Roman port (Segosa), and important in the middle ages, it almost disappeared under the sands until dune-building and forest planting in the 19thC. It was a favourite resort of Winston Churchill between the wars (staying at the Duke of Westiminster's house by the lake, now in ruins). Today it was quiet but not dead and we found a launderette, tourist office and 8 à Huit supermarket which all promised to open after the usual 3-hour siesta. Back to Rosie to make a trifle and drink tea, back to the laverie with 2 weeks' dhobi where the aged patron offered to wash, dry and fold it all for 55 FF, into the tourist office for local maps (and free chocolates for Noël), cash from the dispenser in the market place, and into the supermarket in order to acquire enough change for a few Pay & Display tickets. Back to Rosie for another pot of tea until it was time to collect the dhobi, pleased at finding the launderette the day before it closed for 2 weeks' holiday - until we got back and found Barry had lost a sock, which we can't retrieve!

3 more camping cars arrived for the night (French and German) and the car park (which doubles as a helicopter pad) was well lit and quiet.

21 miles. £3.16 parking inc elec.

Temperature inside at 8.30 am was below 40ºF, the coldest yet, but the gas fire, blown air heating and morning sunshine soon thawed the windows! We filled with water and moved into the far corner, vacated by a French van, a lovely private pitch with dunes on 2 sides, awning out and bicycles down. Now there is a total of 4 camping cars (2 German and a newly arrived Swiss) and a van callied at breakfast! Barry cleaned the travel-dust off Rosie while Margaret updated the diary. This is the Côte d'Argent, the longest, straightest and sandiest beach in Europe, over 140 miles of light golden sand separating the dark blue Atlantic from 8,000 square miles of dark green pine forest. The dunes reach their maximum height in the Dune du Pilat (114 m/374 ft, the highest in Europe), south of the Arcachon basin. After lunch M baked mince pies, along with a leek, onion & cheese flan, and we gave the 2 Christmas cakes their first coat of royal icing.

Early supper and a brisk 10-minute walk to the market place for 7 pm to watch the Spectacle Pyrotechnique seen advertised on posters. It was a Christmas story, Le premier Noël du petit renne blanc, delightfully and professionally done. A giant screen with slide projections, a voice reading the story, music, lights and fireworks, even glittery snow falling, a full son et lumière treatment lasting about 30 mins that kept even the smallest in the crowd enthralled. Then Père Noël gave presents to the children and a roast chestnut stall had a long queue. All put on by Mimizan council, it made a special start to Christmas. We walked back, warmed up some Glühwein and mince pies and watched a video of 'The Bill'.

Showers in the night and early morning. We put up our few Christmas cards and decorations, then wrapped up for a cycle ride as the rain died out. Following the wonderful Pistes cyclables which run for hundreds of miles through W Europe's biggest forest, 8000 square miles of Les Landes, we rode south to Contis-Plage and Cap-de-l'Homy. Here, looking out across the huge Atlantic breakers, was a memorial to 4 people tombés en mer in May this year. We returned for a late lunch, delayed by Barry's rear puncture (the Michelin World Tour tyres bought in Corsica again!) We did have the bonus of seeing 2 deer in the woods while mending it, as well as one leaping across the path as we rode.

Later Barry used his hereditary skills to decorate the cakes with the icing set, and M experimented with the oversized Brussels sprouts, discovering they were delicious puréed with onion and butter (and much less bitter). Another episode of 'The Bill' on video kept French TV at bay, and B rang the eponymous Eve on her birthday.

After tea and croissants in bed we opened our parcels, then out into the crisp sunshine where we had the world to ourselves. The German Clou was still camped near us, along with 2 Belgian vans, but all was quiet. We cycled to Mimizan Bourg then on a track following the old railway line to St Paul-en-Born and Pontenx-les-Forges. Margaret's turn for a rear puncture - the Michelin World Tours fail again! We then worked our way through woods and VTT tracks to the top of the Etang d' Aureilhan lake where we sat in perfect peace with chocolate bars and tangerines and tried to ring mum and Alan at the Whitewater Hotel on the Vodafone. It worked well, though they were out! Barry pioneered a route through the forest to Aureilhan where we picked up the Piste des Dunes cycle path for the last 5 miles back to Mimizan-Plage, seeing scarcely a soul all morning.

Revived by cheese & biscuits and Christmas cake, Margaret prepared the 5 lb Dinde de Noël for the oven, relieved that it had no head or feet (nor even a bag of giblets), padding its breast with apricot & nut stuffing and striping it with bacon rashers. A restful afternoon, Barry finishing a book about the forged Hitler Diaries which fooled Stern magazine and Rupert Murdoch, Margaret inadvertently hearing the Queen's speech on the World Service and enjoying a shower and a phone call to mum, Alan & Pauline. The turkey was served at 7.30 with the usual sausage, roast spuds, carrots, sprouts, apple sauce and gravy, with Christmas pud to follow. And M's very last bottle of Edesheimer Ordensgut, Spätlese from Schloßböckelheim a-d-Nahe 1978 - 20 years old and as smooth as silk. All-we-could-eat indeed! For entertainment we had a film on video from the Channel 4 Femmes Fatales series whose heroine rejoiced in the name 'Barb Wire'.

A short morning ride into Mimizan, where shops were open and cars about. We checked the opening times of a garage with LPG, then continued to the lake at Aureilhan and disappointed the many ducks with our lack of bread (they didn't go for tangerine peel). Back on the Piste des Dunes and up to the seafront to watch the huge Atlantic rollers crashing (oddly, there's no wind on our side of the dunes but a storm out in the Bay of Biscay). We can't explore the coast northwards as it's a Zone militaire and closed for about 15 miles until Biscarosse-Plage

After lunch Barry had 2 inner tubes to patch before settling with his next book, the story of John Stonehouse, and M worked on the diary. Then another turkey and Christmas pud dinner and a film on video (Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington in 'The Pelican Brief').

Much milder, warm sunshine, wind from the south - the way to go! We used the water/dump point, filled with LPG at the Esso station in Mimizan, then drove south via Bias and Lit-et-Mixe to St Girons. Here we took a 3-mile side-trip through the undulating forest to St Girons Plage, where the promenade was buried under sand. We parked on the Aire de Camping Cars (oddly by the entrance to the Camping Municipal, all closed up) and made coffee. Another 15 miles south to Vieux-Boucau, in search of the camping car site once mentioned in MMM, at the marina of Port d'Albret. It offers parking, water and drains (no electricity), though is not as quietly placed as that at Mimizan-Plage. A machine offered daily tickets at 20 FF, but none of the French residents had bought them, so we assumed it was being used free off season and no-one came to check. (Nor did they at Mimizan, but we paid willingly there since electricity was provided.)

After lunch we walked round the modern resort and read about its history in Rex Grizell's 'South-west France'. Up to the 16thC Port d'Albret was an important harbour on the mouth of River Adour, but the port of Bayonne, 25 miles south, was silting up. King Charles IX had engineers divert the river mouth there in 1578, Port d'Albret silted up and the declining town was named Vieux-Boucau ('old river mouth'). It was redeveloped recently, with the growth of tourism. The swampy depression left by the old river mouth was linked to the open sea, with a barrage to create an artificial lake, and the new resort became the new Port d'Albret. With urbanised blocks of lakeside apartments, restaurants and hotels, it lacks the character of the older, more established Mimizan-Plage.

Barry wrote to Frenchies Garage and Comfort Insurance (re Green Card for Morocco) while M ensured we finished the turkey in style with a Christmas curry, spiced pilau rice (à la Delia) and super Nan bread from Aldi, Christmas cake and chocolates.

47 miles. Free parking.

The World Service 'Off the Shelf' morning serial started reading Prosper Mérimée's 'Colomba', written in 1841. Good memories of life in the Corsican maquis and Dorothy Carrington's book which often referred to his work.

Warmer, sunny, a short drive 10 miles down the coast to the holiday resort of Hossegor and its older harbour of Cap Breton to the south, divided by the Canal du Bourret. We parked in the road by the marina, where a sign indicated the Aire de Camping Cars was at the Plage des Océanides. We also knew that the Camping Municipal was open, and Margaret went in search of directions for both. A helpful woman in the Maison de la Presse supplied a free map and we drove down to the appropriate beach, on the southern edge of Cap Breton. There was a camping car park, with water and dump, out against the dunes, where we made lunch and walked up to the shore. A superb viewpoint: to the north Cap Breton's lighthouse and Hossegor's modern apartments, south our first sight of the Pyrenees and Spanish coastline, west the threatening storm clouds and breakers of the Atlantic and east the forest, sheltering new housing, well back from the sands.

It was, though, a remote and lonely spot with no lighting, so we returned to the municipal campsite, where Madame insisted we must return after 5 pm (and there was no arguing with her locked barrier)! While waiting, we checked 2 other camping car parks on the map - one in the woods only suitable for very small vans and the other on a main road, its facilities kaput. M also rang the post office, to find our mail hasn't yet arrived, so we returned to the campsite and settled into a quiet hedged emplacement. Fees on municipal campings have clearly increased since we were last in France, but it's very secure with a good hook-up, nice hot showers and a washing machine.

28 miles. £9.25 inc elec.

The days are getting longer and the weather warmer and drier. It's back to the outdoor life, where we can clean the bicycles in comfort, and dry the washing on a line between the cork oaks. The site is full of birds - robins, blackbirds, wrens and goldfinches - and a couple of French caravans.

Barry wrote to Glen & Steve Swatman, and to Jim, and after lunch we cycled into Hossegor to check the post (not come), get leaflets from the Tourist Office and buy a few supplies at Leclerc's in Cap Breton. The pistes cyclables run south from here to Labenne or north to Vieux-Boucau and beyond.

It was very much warmer in the night, windows open and no need for heating, but showery this morning. We worked on the diary, with November complete at last and December up to date. We had to replace the batteries in the new organiser and feared all the information was lost but were relieved that 'Reset' retrieved it.

After lunch the rain eased and we walked to the post again - still no luck - then up to the sea-front and back round the old port. Hossegor-Cap Breton is one of the best bathing places on the Côte d'Argent because a deep trench in the ocean bed parallel with the coast is supposed to calm the sea, reducing the waves reaching the shore. We could certainly see that effect today, as huge foam-tipped waves crashed in the distant north and south, while the sea looked much calmer here.

We cycled into Hossegor to check the post where Alan's package had arrived, after 10 days. Then we rode south on cycle paths through the wooded dunes to Labenne-Ocean, inland to Labenne and along the main N10 via Ondres and Tarnos, climbing to the outskirts of Bayonne, where an empty McDonalds tempted us to an early lunch. Then down to cross the River Adour on the St Esprit bridge and into the old town of Grand Bayonne. We noticed Spanish on the signs and many of the people and buildings looked distinctinly Basque, especially the massive early Gothic cathedral (14-16thC) and its cloisters. The narrow cobbled streets and arcades of shops and cafes housed a few buskers and beggars with dogs - a tourist town, but quiet out of season. The return ride was faster, with a back wind, and we went onto Cap Breton seafront where the waves of a high tide were splashing over.

Back home to read the mail over a pot of tea. In addition to the usual bank statements etc, there was a welcome £75 refund on Alf's insurance and we thought of him hibernating in mum's garage!

There were plenty of cards and interesting letters. Prize for the most amusing Christmas card was shared by the MMM team (Santa's sleigh had a motorhome conversion with the reindeer asking 'OK, who gave him MMM for Christmas?') and Bec & Kev in Australia (a nativity scene with koalas, kangaroos, cockatoos and woolly sheep gathered round, the shepherds, 3 men on camels and Mary and Joseph all looking distinctly Aussie with billy cans and bedrolls). We were especially glad to get Bill and Heather's new address in Brighton, to read that Christine Jarvis now has her PhD, and to hear from Pat Townsend about the FGS Reunion.

We celebrated New Year's Eve with Glühwein, Advokaat, Christmas cake and chocolates, and looked forward to another year - another country (or two!)