Ah the joy of finding that every other Brit couple unfortunate to stop over at this hell hole thinks the same as me. Maybe the owner doesn’t like the nation as a whole? The people who ‘work’ here spend all afternoon sitting round with their friends drinking wine and smoking cigars. God help you if you should disturb them for something camping related. I even got yelled at for letting the dog pee up a tree – ” this is a campsite you know”. The urge to yell back ‘well you could have bloody fooled me’ was overwhelming and I put all ideas of leaving dog poo in inappropriate places right out of my head. It was a miserable few days only brightened slightly by waking up to Lily Allen singing ” F**k You” on Joe FM, the lovely lady in the sweetshop who didn’t know much English but told me where I could by a phonecard and the lovely man in the post office. The rest of the town (and the campers) had a permanent expression of a bulldog chewing a wasp whilst a lion claws at it’s bollocks.
Needless to say we were up early and waiting at the barrier for fat no neck to open up this morning. Leaving was a relief, I advise anyone from the UK never to stay there and if Alan Rogers thinks it has a ‘friendly atmosphere’ then he must have visited a site in a parallel universe. Vile people, vile site, vile atmosphere, fabulous loo’s.