A bit of extra privilege never goes amiss. Whether it comes with the job, bought as a perceived necessity, accepted as a freebee, or simply given as a right – being fast-tracked, upgraded or thrown an occasional bonus ball, make us feel just that little bit extra-special. That little bit more-superior – “. . . don’t you know . . .”
Our Friday evening apres-ferry scrabble, up the blacked-out picturesque (we presume) coast hugging narrow D80, sees us pitched up for three nights. We blindly budge Beastie onto the first available space in Camping La Pietra – 500 metres from Marine de Pietracorbara. Daylight finds us sitting pretty. Just in front of the pool.
By the time Laura arrives tomorrow afternoon, today’s weather hiccup should have long passed. In the meantime . . .
The on-line forecast and overhead sky-scape agree for once. A small weather window just enough time to go claim my rightful place . . .
Back at base the weather closes in dramatically. Beastie’s put under siege. We hole up. Batten down the hatches. Pull in our defences. Relentless high winds and torrential rain batters, pounds and buffets. Eases off by the time we rise (without the shine).