La Biere de l' Abeille.

PELISSANNE.

Any regular reader of this blog will know that nothing excites Rosie more than a laundry on a Monday. She's found one in our lunchtime stopover so she's whistling a happy tune all day.

The French campers are grouped together when we open the curtains. The guy next to us is about to move a couple of spaces. This involves lots of discussions and the hosing down of the space! Several attempts to find the right level then someone else takes over. It keeps them occupied, at least.

The laundrette is in Santes-Maries-de-la-Mer. Our journey takes through the Camargue. White horses, black bulls and pink flamingos appear in every field or pond.

A pretty town with a church dedicated to two Saint Marys who brought the gospel to the south of France. They were accompanied by Saint Sara whose statue is carried by the gitan, gypsies, twice a year around the town. Some strange locals, though. We watch one urinating against a tree in the middle of the road. Another, is sunbathing naked on his balcony. The local ironmonger tries to sell us a smoke alarm when we asked for a carbon monoxide one. Time to move on.

We travel through Salon which boasts to be the birthplace of Nostradamus.

Our final destination is Pelissanne, just below Salon. The site is a car park on the edge of town by the boulodrome. We walk into the town before dinner. It's a rundown town out of season. The night's highlight is a play involving Year 6 in the local hall. We enjoy a beer in a local bar. The waiter explains that it is made on the French & Belgium border by monks, originally. It is superb. Beer of the bees, he tells us. He's clearly bored, he and Rosie talk for almost 30 minutes.