With a move up into northern parts we quickly forget those long balmy evenings. Where overnight the heat never falls but a degree or two. The more than pleasantly warm morning starts. Gone are the days of Beastie’s inside feeling roasty.
Our clear night is greeted with a dew soaked morning. Cold wet toes flip flop through the grass to the shower block. Goose pimples on their tip-toes stretch up in search of that morning glow. We (I) refuse to swap shorts and t-shirt for jeans and pully. It’s July!
Camping Colline de Rabais near Virton, Wallonia, our home for our nearly last night compensates. It has a heated outside pool. The day’s aches and pains get stretched off on each length. Master Chefette Mrs S is given the night off. She deserves it. Her stretch at the hob replaced with a meal in the camp restaurant.
Today’s hoped for après lunchtime walk around a typical petite French town is given a nil-points verdict. Hirson is not typical. A mish-mash of houses and buildings huddle the through roads that criss-cross its centre. The town planners must know it. Do their best to brighten this junction.
However, our cross over into France from Belgium brings a welcome return to big vistas.
Our road-side sarnie stop pops up another view too good to overlook. Harvest time in the making.
Currently we’re pitched up at Au Moulin de Frasnoy. Our penultimate night. With a welcome rise in the temperature a poolside end is anticipated. Sacre Bleu. It’s about as long as three bath towels end to end. If I dived in, my head wouldn’t hit the bottom, but the other end’s side wall! It’s full of kids having a great time though. I leave them to it.
We get treated to an evening of sun. Is there a better way to end a day?
