The last three days: Packing up, bye bye blue skies, hello rain...

So, after a lazy last day at Domaine des Naiades at Port Grimaud, we packed up and got ready for the next leg of the journey on Monday morning. While taking a shower, I realised once again how you really can't afford to be precious when it comes to unisex facilities on campsites. You must be prepared to wipe clean every toilet from drips before using them (despite being born equipped with the necessary instruments, men still don't always manage to aim well, sadly...). Also, one must steel oneself against the noise of men snot-rocketing into the shower every morning. It actually became a source of fascination just how much noise men make when showering. From singing, whistling, coughing and clearing their throats to all manner of blustering, huffing, puffing, harrumphing and snorting, it's like a front-row seat at some bizarre opera of masculinity.

Once showered and the tent put away, we made our way northward, on our trip up to Brittany to stay with DD's parents, where my own parents would be staying for a few days. We broke this long drive up with a stopover in Arcachon, a pretty seaside town split into quarters, each named after the seasons. Arcachon is a short drive from the largest sand dune in Europe, Dune du Pilat, but we decided against popping by to see it, as it would have just been an enormous mound of wet sand this morning, the heavens opening as they did for us last night. Parfait. After congratulating ourselves over pizzas on how we'd found ourselves yet another lovely campsite randomly on the way, thanks to whipping out the iPhone at a service station, our smugness turned to dismay as we saw the lightening rolling in. We got safely inside the tent and fell asleep to the soothing sounds of raindrops thrumming overhead, but my sleep was broken by panic attacks about how dreary it was going to be having to wake up in the rain and pack away a soggy tent covered in wet, heavy sand. And it did not. Stop. Raining. Il pleut beaucoup. Luckily, I'd had the foresight to pack a roll of bin bags. I like to pride myself at my having a placcie bag ready for all eventualities...

So no pics for today's post, as I didn't think you'd want to see a soggy, sand-covered tent rolled up inside a bin bag (although maybe you'd have been amused to see me hopping about in my shorts with my hoodie over my head, wet-wiping anything and everything I owned like an over-zealous mother with a chocolate-covered toddler). But for my last post this holiday, which I'll write tomorrow - as we're now in Guenin, Brittany, with the rellies, and sleeping in a comfy bed, canvas not included - I'll do a rundown of the pros and cons of camping a la Lulu, as well as offer a few tips I've picked up along the way, should you have been inspired by my exploits. Ah, looking forward to the return of the threadcount... (although, already missing our little tentside breakfasts, I have to admit).