67. Inspiration robbed

Biarritz

Central Biarritz where we parked

Team day with the MacDonalds (we now know their surname) into Barritz for the day.  They are a good fit for us as they seem equally incapable of getting away to a cracking start in the morning and like us inclined to waste the best part of the day as my dad used to say, returning to the farmhouse at seven in the morning having shifted, singlehandedly, five irrigation lines in the preceding two and a half hours.

The plan was they would head off in their motorhome, stopping for shared provisions at the local supermarket, and park in a well positioned Aire de Camping-cars.  Meanwhile, I would head into Biarritz, drop the family and return to the Aire in time to collect them and take them into Biarritz also.

Not having known them a long time it never crossed my mind that Sheena and Brian might hog all the misadventure leaving me bereft of yarns to massage into false news for my blog! On arriving in Biarritz I phoned them, only to discover that the GPS App that I had recommended had taken them on a torturous route only to return them to the campsite from the other direction half an hour later, while we enjoyed a charmed, unblogworthy trip into the very centre of Biarritz - the rotters.  As if that wasn't galling enough on arriving at the Aire they got charged the full twenty four hour occupant rate and the barrier arm failed to let them in leaving them stressed, blocking the entrance for the other motorhomes.  Eventually a local crone arrived and dragged a sheet of corrugated iron out from under a nearby shrub, placed it over the exit inductive loop and they had to enter via the exit.  Brian's phone call to me at this point sounded more like a call from Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees.  

Rather than collecting them we returned to the Aire for a slap up baguette lunch in their very swish motorhome while I threatened to dismember Roman if he kept fiddling with all the impressive controls and tech that drew his attention.

With two runs into the middle of town to get all nine of us in, I coin fed the meter and was punching the green button like a pensioner at a one armed bandit when a passing local pointed out the large Parking Gratuit sign beside the coin slot.  

Biarritz is fantastic, warm, virtually deserted, beautiful,  people sea bathing, as will we tomorrow.  We poked around with new delights round every corner.  It really is a remarkable place though over blessed with late twentieth century carbuncles that would be worthy challengers for New Zealand House in London's right to the description. Jacqueline and Brian headed off in the Motorhome for dinner provisions while Sheena and I headed for the camp to get spuds etc. started.

Childhood bike though ours didn't
have the megaphone exhaust

Brian greedily bagged another story as now the Aires' barrier arm wouldn't let him leave as his entering through the exit showed he should now be entering, not exiting.  A second appearance by the same crone was required to liberate the greedy chap.  The roast potatoes were baked before they managed to arrive at camp. Luckily I am not the type given to grudges and a pleasant evening was had by all.