It’s all about location, location, location. Right? But hey, there are other factors that need consideration too. Aren’t there?
We leave Florenze site as we find it. Wet.
Pretty, is not the first word that springs to mind as we meander around this site to check the facilities. Some people have a certain “panache” in their style of dress. Others in the way they maintain their garden or decorate their home. It’s the same on the sites we stay at. The more gaudy the colours chosen for the sanitary blocks, usually indicates “yes, we know it’s basic, with only cold water for showers and wash-up, but hey, look how dazzlingly bright and cheerful the walls look” The previous “village” site had inset sinks and composite worktops, in muted colours, so obviously the bar has been raised somewhat.
A little further down the coast, here at Camping Adria, Riccione, they don’t have a bar, which is why it has a style all of its own. Not quite Beverly Hillbillies, but certainly edging towards it. A subtle blend of adequate, usable, antiquated and derelict, with a bit of cowboy thrown in for good measure. Possibly perfectly acceptable to Jed Clampett before he shot up some Texas T.
Let me continue by saying that Beastie has an inside that actively accentuates the sound of anything that lands on his roof. This is usually not an issue except at night. If a leaf lands on it we hear it. Beastie’s roof is three feet above our sleeping ears. It’s waterproof, but not soundproof.
At home, it’s good when it rains at night and is dry during the day. When it does that here, there are pros and cons. Ideally, we like it to rain in the evening, if it has to. Generally though, it prefers to wait until we’re tucked up. Last night being a typical example. Less than ten minutes after lights out (00.08) and drifting into la-la land. Someone throws a few tiny pieces of gravel onto the roof. Followed by a mumble “I think it’s starting to rain”. Turn over and try to ignore it. A few more get thrown. Followed by a grumble. “You’re not wrong”. Ears pick up. Is it just a passing shower? A cup full follows. “Don’t think so”. Then a bucket full. Followed by an exasperated “Oh hell!” Followed by a cart load full. Pull the duvet over head and stuff face into pillow making sure to wrap sides around ears. Followed by a continuous stream of lorry loads . . . “un-repeatable”
Seven hours and thirty nine minutes later it relents.
Followed by, good news . . . the sun is searching for his hat.
Hip, hip, hip hooray!