Well we woke yesterday and planned to visit seaside and mountains, after brief brekkie we headed for Collioure about 45 minutes away. Not long into trip our possessed sat-nav started playing up and the voice that has guided me so far disappeared. The calm Irish tones disappeared and I went into meltdown believing without him we could never find our way home again. Karla managed to slightly unpossess and relayed to me the instructions, unfortunately not quite as clear as our old friend and a number of junctions were missed. Not to worry we got there.
Well I have visited many picturesque harbour towns; Positano, Cabo San Lucas, Howth, Inverkip and Largs but nothing compares to this jewel of the Med. Hopefully the pictures will do it more justice than words. In a nutshell a medieval harbour housing castles, churches, coves, splendid beaches with a bohemian style village with buildings of rainbow colours and artists plying their wares and completing new projects at side of harbour (€500 a pop) to the sound of a fantastic jazz quintet and the smell of cooked seafood wafting through the air. We overstayed our planned trip and the mountains disappeared from the agenda like snow off a dyke in Spring. After Karls finished her moules et frites we came back to gite where I watched end of Gers game and the Man Utd game, before going to the next town where a solitary heathen grill remained open on a Sunday. Pizza was order of day with Karls Calazone looking the size of the largest Cornish Pastie I have ever seen times 4, housing ham, tomato, cheese, onion and an egg.
We then retired and as usual my fear crept in circa 02.47, not helped by fact owners were away for night and the only other resident in our remote outpost was a belgian man (nothing against belgians but bravest that i know are hercule poirot and tin tin) when I decided we were staying in little red-riding hood's grannys house. At 03.03 I heard the first and only gunshot and was certain Wolverine was closing in to gite, armed with a whisk and a rolled up Sunday Times (€5.20) I headed to defend my family only to be verbally assaulted by Karla who explained in pretty certain times that it was the sound of Kiera's dummy hitting the tiled floor. Was not convinced and spent the next 120 minutes planning our escape route from our gite should it be Wolverine.
Well you will have concluded that we made it through the night, just, and were woken at 07.46 when Kiera's early morning ritual seems to involve impersonating Joe Pasquale, Victor Meldrew or an All American Girl which is annoying enough to waken anyone. However having kept the house up through night I have no right to comment.
Well looks like Carcassonne this morning which I am really looking forward to visiting, then off to Barcelona tomorrow, rain forecast.
Looking in the mirror last night after a day of sun I could not work out if I was a bronze Adonis or a pink Adonut, think it may be the latter.
REMEMBER YOU CAN DOUBLE CLICK PHOTO FOR A BETTER IMAGE.
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