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All about the packing

Day 8

Today is our last day at Camping International, and although it genuinely is a very basic site (get ready to check out my Trip Advisor review, fans) I am really going to miss it.

The weather has helped. France (and the UK I believe) is currently experiencing some weather anomaly, and it has been completely glorious every day. I can imagine that the dust and sand and building works on the campsite  might have felt a little more grim, in torrential rain, but the sun can make a bulldozer look as sparkly as a diamond.

So, this morning we did somehing I have NEVER done on any holiday, ever. We did nothing. Literally nothing. We had a lie-in until about 9:15 (which is CRAZY late for me – I am a morning person) and then we lazed around, had breakfast, read, played games and coloured, until about 11:30.

Eleven-frikken-thirty without going outside!

I’m blaming the bloody 15 km a day treks through Paris we’ve done. My feet have not known what’s hit them (cobbles, grit, soil and paving slabs mainly)

Smallboy and I  both got a little stir crazy, so in the interests of sanity (and my now infamous holiday logistical planning) we despatched husband to the laundry, and I packed. I assumed that this was going to be a mammoth task. I had carefully-considered piles of categorised stuff ready to go. And it took me around 4 and a half minutes.

I had to call on all of my “optional and alternative activity” training and, so we decided to walk along the river to a park that we’d noticed last Monday.

 It was just so…French…

We strolled through open air seafood restaurants, to the sound of an accordion playing, we saw cyclists wearing actual berets and carrying French baguettes in rucksacks, we saw dressed poodles in the arms of impossibly-glamorous and fashionable French women, and we saw old, tanned men in canoes, smoking cigarettes and shouting at ducks.

It was like being on some xeno-centric film set!

The park duly played upon, and the 2 mile walk back completed, we felt we’d earned a final dinner out at the campsite bar. Turns out the French for “nuggets” is “nuggets” and it was entertaining listening to Smallboy speaking French to the bar owner.

W: Bonjour

L’homme: Bonjour

W: Ca va?

L’homme: Ah… Ca va bien. Et toi?

W: Pleeu plee ce ce va chan ce la….. MUUUUUMMY….he’s speaking a lot of bonjour words to me…


So, about to embark on our final night, but very excited, as tomorrow we go to Disneyland Paris…and Smallboy doesn’t know! He thinks we’re going home.

This could go one of two ways….

But for now, mes amies….Bon soir


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