MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR DECEMBER 1999

ENGLAND AND FRANCE

Barry and Margaret Williamson

01 DECEMBER 1999 UK MUM'S DRIVE, THORNTON

We took a bus into Cleveleys to make a few photocopies of the 'A-Z of Full-Timing' text, for MMM readers who write to us as consultants, and bought some plump chicken breasts to cook for dinner and a draining rack from Grundy's.

After a quick toasted tea-cake lunch, M returned to Thornton for another filling, scale and polish, leaving Barry to discover the Cleveleys Caravan Centre where he bought new light clusters for the rear lighting board after admiring the owner's rugged Mercedes panel van-based motorhome.

A few phone calls to check ferry prices found the Motorhome Ticket Club gave the best deal, saving £20 on P&O's Portsmouth-Cherbourg fare, though we can't predict a date yet. We also ordered another 10 Penguin modern classics for £10 from the Book People, registered with Air Miles and got them to credit us with the year's Vodafone points, and checked whether the Karrimor factory is open Saturdays (it isn't, so we'll have to leave here on Friday, to reach March for an MOT Monday).

While mum went to Wignall's coffee morning we made our last ascent into the attic and also retrieved Rosie's spare tyre from the garage to carry on our roof. Alf is sitting nervously on his carrier, his year's hibernation at an end, and Rosie squeezed herself backwards out onto the road after a week's rest.

On a wet blustery afternoon we took mum to Cleveleys prom, had excellent fish & chips from the bus station, drove past Lidl (small car park full) and went to Poulton, where it was equally impossible to park. While Rosie circumnavigated the centre, M enquired about dry-cleaning the Indian silk rug and was directed to a specialist on the Warren Drive industrial estate. We left the rug there and drove to Fleetwood, where Aldi have a more generous car park. Loaded with tins and packets for the coming weeks, and a Stollen cake for more immediate use, we returned to the flat for a last evening with mum.

An exchange of wrapped Christmas parcels and a sad farewell before driving past Preston to Karrimor at Clayton-le-Moors. While Barry's handlebar-bag zip was being repaired (under the lifetime guarantee) we looked round the shop, bought a bargain pair of 'ladies walking shorts' and made a snack. The wind was up, the rain turning to sleet, as we headed for Huddersfield. By the summit of the M62, snow was slowing the traffic to a crawl and it was beginning to settle as we drove to Honley to collect our new screen from Taylormade. The Taylors were both home and we had a long chat in their kitchen, enjoying Ted's broad accent and sense of humour. His gratitude for mentioning them in the 'A-Z' was reflected in the low price he charged and we bought a new bicycle cover as well.

Once again, we negotiated the long lane to Holme Valley Camping in the dark and sleet, to a warm welcome by the 2 ex-teachers who run it.

113 miles. £7.95 inc elec.

A lovely drive through the snowy Pennine hills and into Hillsborough, parking at the Mecca Bingo and superstore complex just before the centre. We walked to Tony Butterworth's to collect 2 well-refurbished bicycles, new chains and cogs gleaming, spare tyres, innertubes, handlebar tape and other bits ready to take away. Delighted with his present (the Moroccan model bicycle to hang in the window), Tony responded with the gift of a new frame-fitting pump each. Barry hoisted the cycles up onto the rack and fitted their new cover while M made lunch, then we headed for the A57 and Worksop. Sadly, the weekend layby biscuit-seller had packed up early in the rain.

Too late for a free night at Brownhill's, we stopped at a Caravan Club site 5 miles north of Newark at the village of Cromwell, arriving in the dark: the days are getting very short.

64 miles. £9.20 inc elec.

South down the A1, which is gradually becoming a motorway, turning off at Peterborough for March. Floods Ferry, off the Chatteris road to the south of March, is a basic campsite set along the bank of one of the many great ditches which drain the Fens, mired in mud at the end of long narrow lanes. Arriving in the dark, the friendly owner interrupted his dinner to light our way onto the only hardstanding pitch and we had a quiet night.

79 miles. £6.50 inc elec.

An early start, leaving Rosie at Frenchie's for inspection and MOT. They offered a courtesy car for £15, sparing us a long cold day walking into and around March, and we headed for Peterborough in the little T-reg Skoda. Barry enjoyed the transition to driving on the wrong side of the road with the steering on the wrong side, a clutch to work, a gear stick to move around, all at what felt like unmanageable speeds a few inches above the road surface.

A detour north of the A47 took us to the quaint village of Crowland to visit its large caravan and accessory showrooms, then into Peterborough, where we declined to pay £1.50 minimum to park the car in the busy city centre. We did stop and shop at an out-of-town Halford's, lunched at McDonald's and returned to March via Ramsey Forty Foot, calling at an old favourite motorhome dealer's, Wellsbridge Sales, where we finally found 'Black Streak Remover', one of the few items remaining on our long shopping list.

In March we lingered over tea & mince pies in the Baker's Oven and shopped for DIY stuff, returning to Frenchie's for 5 pm. Mick French appeared to regret that Rosie needed 2 new steering linkage parts, a new drive belt and idler pulley, all of which he'd ordered from USA, and we should bring her back next Monday to have them fitted. By way of compensation, he offered to fit an excellent 'nearly new' Sony radio/ tape player in the cab to replace the one which finally stopped working in Poland. He would also remove the alarm system which had also proved incapable of surviving the roads of southern and eastern Europe.

With a week to pass, not wanting to drive far, we went to Peterborough's Caravan Club site at Ferry Meadows, offering much more comfort and space than Floods Ferry. Fairy lights and a decorated tree at the entrance, piping hot showers, phone box and help-yourself library, all just for us!

33 miles. £8.40 inc elec.

We spent much of the day sorting, checking and filing the rest of our mail. M rang Vodafone to check the renewal of international roaming and message facilities; Turner's about the bathroom/kitchen damp problem and an estimate for outside painting in the spring; and the Motorhome Ticket Club to book the 1315 hrs Portsmouth-Cherbourg ferry for Friday 17th (subject to change!) for £108.80 single.

After lunch we cycled a couple of miles to the local village post office but it was too cold and windy to enjoy exploring the Ferry Meadows park and lakes.

Barry finished giving Rosie's interior woodwork a new coat of varnish while M worked on the diary, something there hadn't been time for since Germany's Harz region. She also phoned the Midland Bank (or HSBC) to set up new security numbers, and the local health centre to make an appointment for tomorrow morning for booster vaccinations.

It's very peaceful here with good TV reception, no neighbours, no rush - an ideal place to 'chill out' between major journeys - but where will the next one be?

Bitterly cold and windy, we rang for a taxi to take us the 5 miles to Thorpe Road Health Centre (next to the hospital) for 9.40 pm. The bikes would have been no use since we intended to go on to visit the city's indoor shopping centre. The cheerful nurse gave us both foul-tasting drops for polio (cube sugar is no longer 'dentally correct') and injections for tetanus (10 years since we had them for going to India), and Margaret also needed the 3-yearly typhoid jab which gave her a sore arm (Barry has 2 years to go).

We walked from the surgery into the city for a well-deserved coffee in BHS before tackling the shops. Dixons exchanged the unreliable Packard-Bell organiser we'd bought a year ago in Huddersfield without any quibble, giving us the latest model with double the memory and another 3-year guarantee. We also shopped at C&A (underwear and a useful illuminated magnifier for map-reading); Waterstones Books (Michelin atlas of Europe and an updated Rough Guide to Greece); Motorsavers (new brush for cleaning Rosie, bulbs, shampoo, etc); and found Union Jack stickers for the bicycles and new straps for attaching the sleeping mats (dreaming of that long-distance ride to come).

Seeing very few places for lunch, and those all packed, we got fish & chips in a cafe by the market, where we bought fruit & veg. We checked bus times to Ferry Meadows (once an hour by Woolworth's), admired the outside of the Norman cathedral (free, unlike the interior!), bought a couple of books in a charity shop and had a pot of tea before joining the bus queue for a 30-min ride and a 15-min walk back to the campsite.

In the evening we had a message to ring Eve and arranged to see her tomorrow.

Barry did some exploratory work on Rosie's loose ladder, finding that some of the internal parts had rusted through, requiring a new way of attaching the ladder to the bodywork in at least 2 places and other parts needed to be stripped, greased and tightened. Removing enough bits to take round the shops, looking for possible ways of fixing them, left the ladder even more shaky but just about usable. The step ladder, useful in working on Rosie's ladder, wasn't long enough to actually reach the roof, something to bear in mind when the ladder was eventually stripped right down for a final repair.

Eve drove over to see us at the end of the morning, stayed to lunch and took Barry into Peterborough for the afternoon. M caught up on housework (motor-homework?)

Margaret made the traditional Xmas cake, plus 2 golden syrup ginger loaves to bake alongside it. Barry gave Rosie a surreptitious wash with the new brush while the C C Wardens were out to lunch.

M also rang Maureen Wood for the latest news on Beryl Moseley. She is only slowly recovering from Sally's death with psychiatric help and has taken early retirement

from Chesterfield College.

But it was good to talk to Maureen again after so long and hear how much she loved getting our newsletters - the latest one is circulating her office in Matlock Town Hall right now!

We've had 5 responses via MMM since appearing as Full-Timing Consultants from October's edition onwards, all from early-retiring couples thinking of stepping over that particular edge. Some wanted advice on choice of vehicle, some had already chosen. We sent them each a copy of the 'A-Z' text for information, our latest annual newsletter for inspiration and a personal letter addressing any specific questions not covered.

Margaret also wrote the difficult letter to Beryl Moseley, with Barry's help - hard to know what to say, but far worse to ignore it and write nothing. Later we cleared Rosie's decks for action at Frenchie's and packed sleeping bags and food to take to Eve's, who had kindly offered us her sitting room floor for a couple of days rather than going into a B & B.

Back at Frenchie's in March, we took the Skoda courtesy car and left Rosie to have the new radio installed, the alarm removed (it's unreliable and we're afraid of finding we can't turn it off!) and the new parts fitted when they arrive. We were sad to learn that Mrs French had been very ill since the summer with an undiagnosed weight-loss and general weakness. She had worked as Frenchie's receptionist and her illness had given him extra work, plus the demands of taking care of her and the frustration of dealing with an uncaring Health Service.

In March we shopped at the Freezer Centre and Sainsbury's (in order to park there), finally found a tin of Mamade, bought some bits for Rosie's ladder, got toasted tea-cakes and coffee and drove on to Huntingdon in snow flurries.

Cromwell's birthplace is a historic market town, looking very seasonal in the snow, next to picturesque Godmanchester on the Great Ouse, but again parking was very difficult even in a small car and we had to shop at Tesco to get a place! We got a new brass curtain road at Homebase for the overcab window, as the old one had tarnished and bent, then headed along a very busy and snowy A14 to Eve's.

After good food and talk, we had our pick of her extensive video collection and we all watched the award-winning film 'Shakespeare in Love'. It was very cleverly done, though we hadn't read 'Romeo & Juliet' recently enough to catch all the allusions and parallels. We were surprised how popular it had been, with such a literary base. A good night's sleep on the living room floor, by the fire with a large TV at our feet.

25 miles in Rosie; 60 miles or so in the Skoda.

Eve had a business meeting at home with an ex BBC-producer who is working with her on a new film script. Getting out of the way, we drove into Cambridge (about 14 miles) and found the necessary bolts and bits to fix Rosie's ladder with useful advice from a very competent young woman in a traditional ironmonger's (this is the sort of thing that Barry misses most when out of the UK). Lured by the sizzling smell of a stall in B&Q's car park, we indulged in 'Cambridge's Best Breakfast in a Bun' for lunch. It was a half-baguette stuffed with bacon, sausage, fried egg, onions, tomatoes and mushrooms, for £2.70 each including mugs of coffee! Delicious, the only problem was how to eat it sitting in the tiny car!

We returned via St Ives, where we'd camped last year and remembered a good market, but not on Tuesdays. We did get a couple of charity books and bought 3 £5 Millenium coins at the bank, for ourselves and for Jim. (The first coins to bear 2 year-dates, perhaps they'll become valuable?)

Back at Eve's, we watched one of her favourite films, 'Reds', starring, produced and directed by Warren Beatty. Set at the time of the Russian Revolution it shows the beginning of the Communist witch-hunt in the USA.

After early lunch we took Eve to the dentist in Saffron Walden and raided the excellent Oxfam Bookshop there. We all had tea and cakes in one of the refined tea shops before returning.

Eve went to her friend Mary's for dinner and we had a good evening with Jim, some sausages, the television and the washing machine.

Hoping Rosie might be ready today, we rang Frenchie's. Tomorrow teatime was predicted, so M changed the ferry booking from Friday to Monday 20th, to allow for any further delays, reserved a pitch at Plant Farm near Portsmouth for Saturday and Sunday nights and rang mum with the new departure date.

After lunch we went to the nearby giant Tesco at Bar Hill and considered a country walk, but it was far too cold for pleasure. On the final evening with Eve and Jim we watched another video film 'Peacemakers', a post-cold-war thriller.

Another call to Frenchie's, promises to have Rosie ready by 5 pm, so farewells to Eve and Jim. We drove via St Ives, where it was Market Day, enabling us to enjoy 'Have You Seen My Wife's Pork Pies?' for lunch!

In March, we crammed the car boot with produce from Lidl and idled over tea and mince pies in the Baker's Oven until the clock struck 5. Rosie was ready and waiting, proudly sporting her new radio and an extra rear fog light (one of Frenchie's requirements for the MOT, as Alf obscures the original one. It was no use protesting we hardly ever drove in the dark, let alone the fog!)

Barry found her in excellent shape as we drove across Cambridgeshire for another night at the World Famous Comfort Cafe, but there was only Cold Comfort, no hot food, with everything turned off due to a gas leak. They did offer turkey salad sandwiches and we spent the evening settling back into our home and finding a place for all our purchases.

46 miles. £2.50 parking.

A long day's drive in the cold and rain, we shan't be sorry to leave England now. We went across to the A1(M), via Biggleswade and Stevenage, then round the M25 past Heathrow, all very busy on the last Saturday before Christmas. We made lunch and bought just enough 80p/litre diesel to reach Portsmouth at the first services, and turned off at the A3, past Guildford, to Waterlooville. We'd used Plant Farm last year, very well placed just 6 miles before Portsmouth, ideal for the ferry.

The farmyard was icy, the caravan field deep in snow, but 2 clear places had been kept in the yard labelled Williamson and Hooper. We were lucky to settle in and fill the water tank before it went dark - the Hoopers arriving later with a caravan had difficulty manoeuvring as more snow fell.

The TV reception was poor without the aerial (too frozen to erect) so M rang Mum to suggest one or two programmes to video for us (having been through Eve's Radio Times and made a list!)

193 miles. £6.50 inc elec.

Outside the temperature didn't get above freezing all day and we were happy to stay indoors. We turned the tin of Mamade into 6 lb of marmalade, doused the Xmas cake with Polish Slivowitz (in the absence of rum or brandy) and covered it with good German marzipan.

There was no wind at all, just a bitter chill, so we hoped for a calm crossing tomorrow as we gathered our French maps and information and planned a tentative route via the Fréjus Tunnel to Italy. M rang Mum and Alan and we packed for the voyage.

On rising the inside thermometer read 34 deg F, our lowest yet (though worse was to come in the Alps!) The farmyard and lane were sheet ice and Barry edged carefully back to the main road. In Waterlooville we called at Halfords in the middle of the industrial estate to get Rosie a new caravan battery (replacing one of the original 2), which just qualified for the 'spend £50 or over and get £10 off' Christmas deal.

At the harbour for noon, we made lunch, changed some money (over 10 FF=£1 and no commission charges) and collected our tickets (ordered through the Motorhome Ticket Club). We sailed at 1.15 pm and arrived in Cherbourg 5 hours later after a calm crossing on a fairly quiet boat. Armed with a flask of coffee and biscuits, we

bought nothing in the 'duty-free' shop (which no longer is). Leaving Portsmouth, we passed several battleships and an aircraft carrier, the captain of our ship explaining that the fleet were in for Christmas shore leave, and we also had a good view of Nelson's 'Victory' moored along with a couple of other historic ships. We passed down the east side of the Isle of Wight, with its miniature white cliffs topped by caravan sites, then out to a flat sea.

In Cherbourg we drove straight onto the big empty 'waiting area' car park for the night, advanced our watches an hour and made a meal, happy to be back on the mainland and free of ice and snow.

17 miles. Free parking.

Before leaving Cherbourg we bought diesel (just over 50p a litre), filled the LPG tank and stopped at the first supermarket, Leclerc's, for a few items. Immediately the sense of space - on the roads, in the towns, on the car parks - reminded us just how crowded and busy England has become. No need for Rosie to circle, unable to park, while M rushes into a shop or post office, in this country.

At Pont Hébert, before St Lo, we parked by the river Vire for coffee and posted a package to Rupert of Latvia, sending him our maps, Lonely Planet guide and diary covering the Baltic Republics along with a letter and newsletter.

The roads were remarkably quiet, the weather cold and bright. Many garden trees or hedges were decorated with satin bows, ribbons and balls, and life-size figures of Santa Claus climbed up a wall or over a balcony on several houses, shops and town halls! We began to feel more festive than we had in UK.

At Alençon our newly purchased C C Continental Sites Guide showed a Municipal open all year. Unable to find it, we asked at a garage - it had closed down, but a customer who worked for the Mairie led us 2 or 3 miles to another site which was open (though listed as closed in winter in our new book!) We presented our human guide with a packet of cigs and hoped our written guide would prove more reliable in future.

We shared the site with a couple of gipsy vans and enjoyed a quiet night. The low-power hook-up, common in France, meant using the gas kettle and oven but that helps to warm the van in the evening and LPG is cheap and plentiful here.

145 miles. £4.80 inc 4-amp elec.

Another good day's driving on quiet D-roads, south-east towards Orléans. Well-signed roads took us round the city without a glimpse of the Loire, then we followed the river towards Nevers, with an occasional sight of the water.

After some 40 miles, at Gien, our road, D952, ran along the river bank and just across a beautiful old bridge we spotted a campsite on the opposite bank. We found it open, with no-one else staying. The owners, who ran the nearby high-class grocer's, said they would be away from the 24th until the 27th but we were welcome to stay - we had found our Christmas retreat, in a peaceful wood just 10 minutes' walk from the town, with a view of the Château above, across the river.

We settled in and made 2 dozen mince pies.

150 miles. £7.50 inc 4-amp elec.

We walked along the bank and over the 15thC bridge (too narrow for today's traffic and supplemented by a newer one upstream) into Gien, a small town strung along the river below the church and castle (now a Museum of Hunting), in desperate need of the bypass which is still being built to the north. We bought French phonecards and stamps, sent Jim a New Year card, and located the supermarkets.

After lunch we used the site washing machine and M mixed and pressure-cooked 2 Christmas puddings while Barry made a splendid job of icing the cake.

We walked into Gien again, carrying a rucksack each to shop for our Christmas dinner at the big Auchan supermarket, whose red and green lights reflect brightly in the Loire at night. We found all we needed, including a plump fresh turkey for the princely sum of £3.30. (About 6 lbs weight, it just fitted in our oven and provided 3 good meals plus sandwiches!)

Back at the site, we wished the owners a good weekend away. M prepared the bird and made apple sauce and apricot & peanut stuffing. Barry put up the decorations (3 cardboard bells from Greece) and our Christmas card (thanks, mum)!

We broke with our tradition of cycling on Christmas morning as it was so cold and windy, and had a lazy time cooking the dinner and opening our presents. The ducks swam by, the church bells pealed, the busy riverside road opposite was silent, all very peaceful, with a bottle of Pfalz Spätlese from Aldi in Wettringen.

The turkey cooked beautifully in about 3 hours, trimmed with bacon and sausage, roast spuds, sprouts, carrots, turnips and gravy. Too full for pudding and custard, we ate it later for supper, after phoning Alan and mum and relaxing with the radio - pantomime, Queen's Message, Dylan Thomas ('A Child's Christmas in Wales'), all good seasonal stuff, and we can still get Radio 4 here on Long Wave, as well as the World Service, giving a choice ('the Archers' and 'Westway' both!)

In the evening we escaped the inane French TV game shows by watching one of mum's videos, a Kavanagh story about the prosecution of a Nazi war criminal, with Warren Mitchell excellent in the role of a Dachau survivor.

At about 5 am Barry heard and felt the wind and went out into the cold grey dawn to roll in the awning. By 7 am, it was clear that this was more than a gale - tall trees were coming down round the campsite and we dressed and went out in alarm.

Caravan awnings, plastic chairs and groundsheets were tossed and shredded by the wind, a couple of caravans had their plastic windows blown out and curtains flapped and tore frantically. One caravan had a tree embedded in its roof, the toilet block roof was lifting at one end, a giant fir had fallen right across the only entrance, damaging the barrier, and a concrete lamp-post had folded over and fallen onto the phone box by reception (used by Margaret yesterday!) Just us and a puzzled campsite cat, trapped here!

Barry judged the place least likely to be hit by a tree, in the centre of the site, and we hastily packed up and moved Rosie there. The electricity supply wavered, and finally went altogether. The river was surging in huge waves, flowing in the wrong direction!

We heard the sirens of police cars and fire engines all morning as blue lights flashed along on the opposite bank. By noon the tornado seemed to be over and the campsite owners arrived with a couple of workmen, back early from their break. They told us it was chaos all over the region, with trees down across roads, electricity cut off and chimneys and roof tiles crashing. The men set to with chainsaws and a bulldozer, clearing the site entrance and making things safe, and advised us to stay until tomorrow. (They made no charge for today, making us the only people in France to profit from the storm!)

After lunch we ventured over the bridge to walk up to the church and castle and look down over the town. The streets were cluttered with the remains of shop awnings and signs, slates and tiles. Firemen were up ladders securing chimneys and loose gables (rather them than us). Walking along the Loire, we saw dozens of trees uprooted and moored craft lying half-sunk.

Watching the TV news in the evening we began to realise the scale of the damage, right across the northern half of France and on to Germany, causing havoc round Paris, with thousands of trees destroyed in the parks and at Versailles as well as in the countryside and millions of homes without electricity. About 30 people had been killed, mainly by trees falling onto cars or houses. La tempête du siècle.

A cold bright day with a back wind but much calmer. Hoping the main roads were cleared, we continued along the river, pausing for lunch at La Charité sur Loire, where we crossed our route from Bourges to Verdun last summer. The roads were very quiet with many trees down in the fields. At Nevers we turned east to Autun, through beautiful rolling countryside, then south past Le Creusot, turning off the N80 to the little canal-museum village of Ecuisses, where our book suggested a free Aire Communale for camping cars. There was indeed a large parking area in the centre, by the school, firestation and Mairie, complete with tap. The trees bordering the square were short, sturdy and pollarded and the Sapeurs Pompiers were on duty, so we curried the last of the turkey and had a safe night.

150 miles. Free parking.

Heading for the Alps and the Fréjus Tunnel, we drove east to Chalon-sur-Saône then turned south parallelling the motorway to Mâcon. Crossing the Saône we continued via Bourg-en-Bresse through countryside famous for its poultry, fed on the corn cobs we saw stacked in racks in every farmyard. Over the Col du Chat and down to Chambéry, where both campsites were closed, so we followed the N6 towards Albertville after filling up the LPG. Just after Chamousset, along the route for Italy via the Fréjus, was another village listed in the Aires de Camping Cars book, Bourgneuf, where a car park was hidden away behind the church. Snow was falling as we arrived, we had it to ourselves, our only disappointment that the adjacent pizzeria was closed on Tuesdays. There was a Flot Bleu installation for fresh and waste water but it was turned off in the freezing conditions.

The French radio traffic information was warning that the Fréjus Tunnel was closed to heavy goods vehicles and advising them to go south to Marseilles and round the coast to Italy (Mont Blanc Tunnel still being closed since the fire)! Hoping this long detour wouldn't apply to us, we looked up advice numbers to ring tomorrow.

173 miles. Free parking.

Margaret rang the French traffic info line and the Fréjus Tunnel office and was assured that the roads were now clear. The climb from the end of the motorway to the tunnel entrance near Modane had been dangerous with snow and closed to lorries. Asking about the road beyond Modane to Termignon, 10 miles further towards the Col de l'Iseran, where we'd found a campsite open in our book, the answer was 'No Problem'. The campsite guardian said the same, so we set off.

The N6 climbed gradually through an increasingly snowy and hilly landscape, parallel with the motorway which now ends at St-Jean-de-Maurienne (though it will one day continue to Modane, through tunnels and flyovers).

We passed the turning to the tunnel itself, drove on through the busy mountain town of Modane, and out towards Termignon, hoping to spend New Year on the route to the Col (2nd highest in the Alps) which we'd cycled in the summer of 95. The road climbed and twisted, at first cleared of snow but gradually getting worse with nowhere to stop or turn round. After 5 miles a village afforded a place to park and here the cars and an Italian motorhome ahead of us all stopped to put on snow chains - this is 'No Problem' Alpine-style! We returned to Modane, relieved to reach the safety of its car park.

We walked round the town, its side streets blocked by snow, the main road kept open by a snowplough! With the Alps rising all round it was the stuff of Christmas cards. At the Mairie we checked that Modane's campsite was closed, the only other one open in the vicinity was up an even steeper uncleared sideroad by a ski station, and yes it was OK to spend the night where we were. Just as well!

60 miles. Free parking.

Despite running the gas heating until bed-time and using all our new thermal blinds, the temperature on waking was just 32°F, the inside of the windows thick with ice, though we'd been cosy enough with extra clothes and hot water bottle. Outside, hardy traders were setting up market stalls and our car park was busy.

Reluctant to leave France until after the weekend, we had to find an accessible campsite open or tunnel through to Italy. After a couple of phone calls we found a site near Ugine, between Albertville and Chamonix, and made our way back. It had stopped snowing, the sun shone and we gradually got warmer as we dropped.

We parked for lunch outside the Camping Municipal in Albertville, which we'd once shared with a big gipsy contingent, but it was firmly locked up.

At Ugine we turned off the Chamonix road towards Annecy and saw our campsite on the left after 5 miles but before settling there, we went to the nearest supermarket at Faverges. Instead of the intended joint for New Year we bought another fresh turkey, bigger than the first but costing less as they were all half-price to clear! Too good a deal to miss.

The site was excellent, surrounded by Alpine foothills, deep in snow, but with a good hook-up, heated toilet block and 2 young couples living in neighbouring caravans. Madame ran a restaurant but regretted she had no tables free tomorrow or Saturday. No problem.

74 miles. £10 inc 6-amp elec

As our washing froze into shape on the line, we prepared and enjoyed a second roast turkey, with leek & walnut stuffing and all the usual vegetables, followed by trifle. The radio entertained us with Alan Ayckbourn's 'Season's Greetings' and later, on French TV, we watched the build up to the Millenium Eve celebrations around the world, with fireworks from Jerusalem, Athens, Berlin, Sydney and predominantly Paris. The Eiffel Tower, lit up with a magnificent display, looked ready for take-off, though the 11 great wheels on the Champs-Elysées were more performance art than jolly celebration - very French. An hour later, the events at the Greenwich Dome and the brilliant 15-minute firework display over the Thames were shown and even the French commentator thought we outdid them all.

Outside we heard distant music and a few bangs but could see nothing in the sky. We did get one New Year/Century/Millenium message on the Vodafone, and a great surprise it was - Patrick and Felicity Phelan, planning to leave for Greece at the end of January and hoping to meet. Next year may be very different.