Tapp's Travels

A wild howling banshee screamed out over the otherwise peaceful town of Vic Fezensac.  What on earth?  Is it a Harry Potter display?  A low-flying helicopter display team overhead?  Ahhh!  It’s Wednesday.  The first Wednesday of the month.  Middle of the day.  That explains it!  Less than three minutes and serenity descended again.  Like nothing had happened!  To be true, apart from a few spilt coffees, nothing much HAD happened.

In 4,500 towns and cities across France there is a test sounding of the sirens, once a month.  This is part of the Système d’Alerte et d’Information des Populations (SAIP).  The purpose of these tests is to ensure the sirens are in working order.  Which is a good plan because they are used to alert the population in case of real emergencies such as attacks or natural disasters.  The sirens are typically tested around noon, with specific times varying slightly by region (11:45 in the north, noon in the center, and 12:15 in the south).  I suppose that feature can be used to tell you which part of France you are in if your sat nav fails!

(Just visible on the top of the local church, the characteristic four-way “hi-fi” system can be seen.)

If you remember, sirens (of a different sort) recently featured scantily clad – or totally un-clad – in a recent episode.  I discovered some interesting “facts” while checking the information above.

1. Sirens and mermaids are distantly related species.

2.  While sirens are basically bad news, mermaids are good citizens.

3.  Because of “2” they are always fighting each other.

4.  Sirens sing nonsense songs to lure sailors into the sea – but this only works on male sailors who may become enchanted.  Female sailors just hear recitals of cookery books.

5.  Both species fear octopuses.

6.  Sirens also fear their own song.  If it fails to work on the boy sailors, it is fatal to themselves.

7.  Sirens have never appeared at Glastonbury.

OK.  Back to reality…  After 9 days on pitch no 15, we decided to delay departure but we have to move camp.  About 50 metres to the east.  But what about the awning?  With assistance from Marcel and Klazenia, we unpegged it and took the poles out.  But we hit a snag.  I couldn’t unlock the wheel clamp.  This could be a problem!

Marcel ironically suggested I was using the wrong key!  How could I be?  There is only one wheel clamp key on the keyring.  Twenty minutes later we were getting nowhere.  Marcel had had a good go.  But even his trucking strength and experience was no match for the lock.  Glenda and Klazenia made some exceptionally useful suggestions from a distance.  Then I had a brainwave.  Maybe I was using the wrong KEYRING!  OK.  Problem solved!  I still had the key for the old lock on the car keyring!  Just don’t tell Marcel.

So, now we can now complete the manoevre.  The same one we did the first time we visited this site.  Pitch 15 to 13.  This time with a non skeletal awning hanging off the side of the caravan like the train of a wedding dress.  Except it wasn’t white and it was being carried sideways by two bridesmaids and a page boy with the best man controlling the mover!

Moving complete.

Awning back up as if nothing had happened.

There’s a lot of country in France.  There’s no shortage in the Gers.  We took a tour to the south of camp.  Lots of tiny villages:  Bezian …

… Montesquiou …

… and Le Isle de Noé …

… to name but a few.  As you can see, they all have no sign of inhabitants.  Of course, there is a saying about mad dogs, Englishmen and the midday sun!  Maybe if we returned as dusk fell, all the locals would be dancing in the street.  But, somehow, I doubt it!  Possibly, if we came back in July or August, there would be street parties every evening.

We spent another 10 days at Gondrin.  The days got a little longer and the pool got warmer by the day.

Something to do with daytime air temperatures reaching into the mid thirties and peaking at an unwelcome 41°C.  Spending time in a tin box on wheels in those conditions was not only discombobulating, but actually rather unpleasant.  Luckily we have the awning in place!

One evening, after a particularly warm few days, Pam called on everyone to tell them to batten down the hatches.  There was a rather nasty storm approaching from the Southwest.  The sky went from a pleasantly coloured dark blue to a threatening orange.

Then black as the ace of spades.  The breeze upgraded to a ferocious wind.  The sky lit up with thousands of lightening flashes.

(Lightening strikes as the storm rolled in!)

The rain started abruptly and rapidly upgraded to hail.  And hail on a caravan is another unpleasant experience.  Like someone dropping hundreds of marbles on the roof at 100 mph.  Disarming, to say the least.

Then it was all over.  The storm disappeared to the Northeast.  The trail of destruction became clear in the morning.   One caravan was missed by half a tree …

… there were lesser branches down all over the place …

… and Pam and Claudia’s house was short of a number of roof tiles.  But normal tranquil campsite life got going again in a couple of days.

We visited Vallon-sur-Baise one day.  Or rather we tried to!  The main entry roads were barricaded.  “Routes barrées”.  We found a side street that locals were still using and joined a slow procession on tiny, narrow, “not-designed-for-cars” alleyways.  This eventually spilt us into the bastide’s main square.  Totally jammed with a fair being set up for my birthday.  Actually, for the Fête de music.  A festival held every year all over France to celebrate my birthday!  The fair setter-uppers were none too keen to find a foreign car in the traffic jam.  We just pretended that Brexit had never happened and casually departed the town.  So much for a quiet drink under the arches.

Well, you are going to have to remember that we are in the Valley of the River Baise.  I need to stop this and get organised (we leave for home tomorrow!)

… and who said there were no sirens in The Netherlands?

Glenda says she has some great recipes!!!