DOSSING IN DORIS;

IN A CAR PARK IN LORRIS

It’s Saturday and we are enjoying a luxurious stopover in Bellegarde; the home of Sammy, Eric et famille. It has been a traumatic five days since we set sail from Newhaven. Yes, that is five days, from which you will gather we missed our sailing on Monday.

After a superb stopover on Sunday night, at a campsite in Horsham (Sumners Ponds, Barns Green) where the hot showers were so powerful the showerhead sprung from it’s fixing and chased you round the cubicle, there we were, merrily bowling along the A27 and only 12 miles from Newhaven; well, not that merrily as it was pouring with rain and the traffic was horrendous, when the battery light came on and the worrying rubbery smell, that had been with us since leaving Bristol, became overpowering.

“The fan belt’s gone” said Pete.

So, having not even left British soil we had to resort to recovery! About an hour later ( 4.00 p.m. ) a knight in fluorescent orange jacket and a vehicle with many flashing lights, from Westbourne Garages, turned up and began to wrestle with Doris’s recaltrant bolts. By now we had missed the ferry and I had rearranged our sailing for 5 o’clock the next day. The rain still poured and the traffic roared but, about an hour later, the ‘man’ had managed to fit the spare belt that Pete had retrieved from the spare engine we had at home. Oh wise woman Janet (see comments) when you advised about not forgetting a spare fan belt!

Our first night’s wild camping was spent in Sainsburys car park in Newhaven. Previously we had found a secluded leafy layby close to town, next to a childrens playground. The only other vehicle we could see was a council road roller parked up.

Just after we had finished dinner we became aware of several large vehicles of the Motorway Maintenance variety arriving. Many men in yellow jackets and hard hats wandered about. We assumed that this was a fleeting visit to our little refuge, but, when they erected temporary traffic lights and got out the Kango hammers, we knew we were beat and decamped to Sainsburys.

The next day saw us trying to source two spare fan belts before we left on the ferry. Amazingly UniPart in Hove, not only found the right size (not an easy task with Doris) but undertook to have them ready to purchase by 12 noon. This was a load off our mind for, as Pete rightly said, we couldn’t go all round Morocco on one dodgy secondhand fan belt!

The deed was done and, despite last minute worries about the used belt, which still seemed amazingly loose, we boarded the ferry and, at 10 o’clock French time saw us driving onto Dieppe dockside.

And we slept in the overnight lorry park, surrounded by huge lorries; but first we had a drink in the cafe/bar used by the truckers. There we met a man, Tim by name, who had sailed over on the same ferry as us and was going back on the returning boat at midnight. Evidently he wanted to see the new harbour at Dieppe. Well, it takes all sorts. We spent a pleasant hour chatting about many things and Tim regaled us with his opinions on the world in general.

He told us three things that we should remember but I can only recall two. One: he was the first person in Britain to buy unleaded petrol ( in a Tescos in Bedford ) and two: that the government only needed 10 pence from every person in Britain to run the country but they, in fact, took86 pence.

The next morning the sun was shining and we left Dieppe in search of our first stop at a French Aire in Doudeville. This was one of those tidy small towns, so common in France, where there is little rubbish, prolific flowerbeds and ancient imposing buildings. We parked up in the Aire and Pete spent the day re-tightening the fanbelt; and I finally managed to give Doris her promised wash down.

We had decided we would not inflict the busy main roads on Doris and set off the next morning with a travel route based on D roads. This is great when you’re bowling along the long straight bits but, once you hit a town, large or small, you have to go into ‘Sherlock Holmes’ mode to discover the correct road out of town. It usually takes two hits at the exits before you end up on the right one.

More by luck than judgement we found our next Aire in Brezolles. It was getting dark but I just managed to discern the distinctive ‘camping cars’ logo as we drove past. We returned and enjoyed a relaxing night; only slightly marred by the hourly ‘bells’ from the huge illuminated church that loomed out of the river mist.

The next day we set off to search for our first campsite; to get electric hook up and have showers. This was Boulancourt by name but not marked on any of our maps. After many kilometres, ‘deviations’ and false searches, we finally found it; only to drive straight out again after seeing the tarif; 48 euros! and that was just the parking. Electricite and showers were extra.

So last night we parked up outside the Musee de la Resistance in Lorris; about 15 kilometres from where we are now. But, before we left there to stay with Sammy and Eric, we had one more scare. Doris doesn’t like the cold and would not start; and when we tried again she wouldn’t even turn over! Visions of phoning the recovery, again, loomed; but, after a cup of coffee in the local cafe/bar and the purchase of the ubiquitous baguette, we returned to Doris and, this time, she roared into life. Without giving her time to change her mind we hastily prepared to leave.

And that’s about it. We will probably leave here Monday, after enjoying the luxuries of being in a house and catching up with Sammy, a dear friend and daughter to one of our oldest friends Rosie.

This has been a bit of a marathon entry but I don’t know when I will be able to get online again. So far there’s not much sign of internet cafes in rural France. So, until we meet again au revoir mes amis!