A Narrow Escape in Fayence.

FAYENCE.

Heavy overnight rain wakes us several times. We awake to grey skies but it is dry. Leisurely breakfast, fill and empty before heading off to Fayence. We're visiting Marie and Harry at their villa in Montauroux tomorrow. Fayence is a journey of 40 miles, it is about 20 minutes from the villa. A nice short journey should give us plenty of time to relax and look around. However, the best laid plans of mice and men.

We find an LPG station in Draguignan. It's self service which helps tremendously. The sign says that we should fill a car but not a bottle. Still there is no one to check. We've used about half the tank in the 10 days since we set off.

Use the supermarket next door for supplies. A large store, the self checkout is so much easier than the UK.

There are three Aires in Fayence. We opt for the quietest. Satnav tries to take a shortcut past the church. First, I get stuck at a sharp right hand bend. Rosie wandered off to check the road ahead. It was the immediate street that I needed help with. Much burning of clutch oil and guesswork got me round. My discomfort is not helped by the 3 spectators who continually shake their heads.

Even then, I not out of the woods. The two ways out are down a narrow lane or to go back. Rosie is not convinced that we can go forward. Two locals insist that we can. I trust the guy who leads us along. I have no wing mirrors in use, it's that tight. I don't how close it was but it felt claustrophobic. Still, survived with no damage to the van. I'm not sure that the same can be said about my nerves.

We park next to the fire station and walk to the village. We climb to the church and the square.

We find the original car park and realise that the road around the village would take us there. Move the van, the site and the views are much better.

Then the rain starts. We have thunder, lightning and heavy rain all afternoon. We're worried that the road might be flooded if it continues much longer. Spend the afternoon planning our trip to Hungary and playing cards. Memories of camping in Wales or Yorkshire.

The good news, or bad depending on how one looks at it, is that there is plenty of pastis in the van.