Oh! Our last day in France! Time has unfortunate habit of snapping into warp speed at journey’s end. We set off for the short drive to Caen* in preparation for a crack of dawn** start the following day. The plan is simple, settle next to the port, explore the seaside and lunch or dinner, bidding France a fond adieu.
We end somewhat south of plans. The drive there is a breeze, Himself’s intended site however is packed to the gunnels. So chosen for its proximity to our ferry, other Himselves have beaten him to it. Not to worry, lots of other options present… all of which fail one by one. Other parking/aires are either full or too small. The first campsite we try is full – complete, as the French say, as is the second. A third is closed. We try further out without luck. The day slips from our grasp as we criss cross and back track in every increasing circles. Frustration abounds but we’re trapped by tomorrow’s crossing and have to persist. Finally, we find a site with a vacancy. It’s nice enough, grassy and lots of birds but nowhere near the ferry or for that matter, restaurants or the water.
Not quite the farewell I’d planned. No walk along the water. No relaxing dinner over a nice wine, no new place to explore. Caen will not be making a regular appearance in future ferry crossings – far too busy and it’s one of the longer crossings. Give me Le Harve or Dieppe any day. Even Cherbourg was easier.
It’s the start of a disappointing run. Fortunately though the crossing is incident free and Himself’s run of smooth sailing holds. He gets seasick but has the very luck of the devil with smooth crossings.
It is long though and we arrive in Portsmouth well into the day. We’re first off – that’s a first!
With an early start and a long drive on arrival our plan for arrival was simple: find a gorgeous old English pub, dinner out to make up for the day we lost in France. There’s a fair bit of ‘stay on the left’ chanting from Himself – I have a moment’s panic occasionally, thinking we’re on the wrong side of the road. It’s amazing how quickly you get used to driving on the right.
One good thing, my friend Karen was right about the crossing inspection. The only thing they’re interested in is illegal immigrants, checking our garage, shower and bathroom for stowaways. Apparently people hide on board and then secret themselves in motorhomes and vans for disembarking. No cheese sniffer hounds then.
Several hours later, gorgeous old pub found, check. It even has a thatched roof and a sun deck for drinks. Great reviews and we can even spend the night so driving after dinner isn’t an issue. Perfect. It starts off well enough – fancy gins and even fancier pink tonics with freeze dried raspberries. Lovely in the afternoon sun.
But dinner? Hmmmm. Himself has a burger, but clearly doesn’t read the detail. It’s a Franken burger – beef patty, shredded unidentified meat, possibly lamb, jumble of sauces, onions rings, chips. Trying to hit too many flavours and missing them all. I fare little better with two entrees – stuffed mushrooms but they’re drowned in a nondescript sauce and calamari that would serve well as a hockey puck. I’m presuming past reviewers either loved stodge or were high. Not best pleased.
Poorly prepared food makes all too frequent an appearance in the UK. I don’t know why – the produce is excellent and it’s the land of Mary Berry, Jamie Oliver and Nigella. For the love of God just watch a cooking program once in a while – please! Oh and just to demotivate one further, it’s expensive. Compared to French fare, prices are sky high.
Come back France. All is forgiven.
*I don’t know why they call it the Caen crossing – we’re well outside of Caen – the ferry leaves from Ouistreham.
**During travel, crack of dawn officially defined as anything requiring waking pre 9 am. Little secret: also my permanent setting. If you’d like something complex done at 2 am or dancing til dawn, I’m your girl. The morning? Decidedly less so. And don’t even blink at me until coffee hits my bloodstream. Don’t. Even. Think. About. It. Otherwise I’m perfectly lovely. Mostly. Unless you annoy me, then run for the hills. 😂
Miss Baci Travels 