Now That's What I Call Music
In The Middle of The Night
At our campsite in Abbeville we had carefully chosen the perfect pitch (technical term for a piece of grass). It was next to a bench and handy for the washrooms.......just the job.
What we didn't know was that it was also slap next to the meeting place for all the local herberts. It all kicked off after we turned in at about 10pm and it was gone 1:30 before they finally followed our loudly expressed advice to shut the f@#k up.
Why Does It Always Rain on Me?
No sooner had the hoons gone to bed than the thunderstorm started. It absolutely hurled it down all night. For most of this time I lay smugly thinking about how fantasticly waterproof my new tent was.....until I discovered that my open bar bag was only half covered by it. In the morning I removed several inches of water, a very soggy wallet and passport and several items of landfill that had previously been electronics. Bugger.
The ride to Gisors was pretty pants. Cool with some rain and plenty of hills I just never really got my mojo; and when I picked up my first puncture in over 7000 miles I just lay down on the road and sobbed. Ok, I didn't..... but I wasn't happy!!!!
Money's Too Tight To Mention
We treated ourselves to a hotel in Abbeville so we could start to get stuff dry (A day later and my passport is still wet). A bit expensive but not terrible.
We arrived too early for check-in so went to a crappy little bar next door for a cold one. Two large Leffe.. ........FIFTEEN SODDING EUROS!
How do the French put up with this? Why aren't they blockaiding Calais with their tractors like they do when anything else isn't to their liking? I can live with the lack of toilet seats and I have come to terms with shops always being closed but 14 quid for two beers is taking the piss.
A Lad In Seinne
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