St Tropez, rain and wrinkled behinds
The next portion saw us in an enforced prolonged stay in a very soggy campsite in La Lavendou. It rained for 2 days without a break, and the mini-Hitler of the tiny field we stayed in rode around pretentiously in a golfbuggy and muttered about the bike taking up too much room, and our washing being spread on exactly the wrong washing line. He dreamt ambitiously of big manicured campsites with picket fences. There were a few deranged rain-sodden campers about, but no one else in tents apart from us. We still managed to make ourselves some good stove-grub and kept the tent warm and smelling of stew for the two days. We drank cheap red wine from boxes and listened to Nina Simone. It was all rather nice apart from the smell of our socks that wouldn’t dry. The rain cleared on the 3rd day for long enough for us to make it to St Tropez, and we drifted past the amazing restaurants feeling like hobos, and sat ourselves next to giant yachts with their oddly sterile-looking young crews. I pe...