Good deeds have a lot going for them. One way, or another. Inevitably, they bless whoever is on the giving, or receiving end. Like a book-keeping double entry, they lie in wait on the opposite page. Patiently biding time for reconciliation, when everything must perfectly balance. An invisible credit in your favour.
So it was no real surprise after pitching up at Donana Camping Magazon for three nights, when early payback time arrived – in the name of Frank. We’d overlooked the fact that Bestie’s belly was running short of water. With no hot water wash-up facility on site, Mrs S could not not contemplate being without such an essential. The nearest water tap 30metres away. Even at a stretch, 3 metres too far. Then, “Let me help you, I’ll get my hose. You can join it together.”
On schedule, more or less. Portugal now in view.
Although this oasis has everything going for it, come Friday afternoon, an invasion of tongue wagging, loud mouthed Spanish week-enders quickly fill up vacant pitches. It’s currently past midnight and there are still children kicking a ball about, while parents gladly natter away. All par for the course.
We move on tomorrow.