Mum wrote this non-fiction piece after a summer holiday in France in 1986. We believe it was for the Caravan Club. I've no idea whether it was accepted, rejected or never sent out. This may even just be an early-ish draft.

The transcription has been cleaned up to remove excess spaces, etc, found in the original.

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No doubt there were newer, more expensive rigs rolling onto the ferry at Folkestone this yeat, but not many could have contained such excitement. On the dockside at 3.00 a.m. as Bill struggled to fit the yellow lenses to our thirteen year old Austin 2200, the children chattered about their fist trip to France, their first ferry crossing and what the holiday might hold. They were fiercely loyal to our ten year old Thomson Glennevis, claiming it looked much nicer than the shining caravans that pulled alongside. Bill and I hoped that the hours of preparation he had put into the car and caravan would see us through, though we had plenty of insurance in case!

The ferry was comfortable and almost empty so we were able to really enjoy the smooth, short crossing. Nervous of towing on the 'wrong' side for the first time, we pulled gingerly off the ferry, but unhampered by reaffic we were soon on the N1. It was wonderful to be driving through the gentle early morning light on almost deserted streets - what better way could there be of becoming accustomed to the new roads? Our confidence surged as we drove through the sleepy French towns and we were able to appreciate 'la difference' - the houses, people and posters.

As the children dozed, the miles, sorry kilometres, just rolled away and by Alençon we decided to start looking for a one night stop. We pulled into a small site at Pré-en-Pail and were delighted at its neat freshness. Despite its size it was not at all crowded and the children made straight for the play area on the site. We decided to celebrate with our first french lunch and went shopping for the necessary bread, fruit, cheese and wine. Samantha and Joanne listened in awe to my rusty French - we had not discovered supermarkets yet - but that first meal was special to us.

The children had quickly made a friend, Gabriel, and her parents were experienced campers. They were amused at our...

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...decision to book sites, but as novices we had planned to tour Brittany, a week in three different sites and the fourth free to meander back to Boulogne. They gave us many helpful tips, not least of which was where to buy the best, cheapest beer and wine. Together we swam in the Municipal pool opposite the campsite and after their first taste of Pousse Pousse (a French ice-cream on a stick) in the hot sun, our girls decided that they were really going to enjoy this holiday.

Pressing on to Plouharnel the following day we determined to call back at Pré-en-Pail. And it is a good job we did because in the flurry of our early morning departure we left our step behind! (yes, it was there when we returned). The route we chose was on minor roads, but the most direct on the map. Enjoying the rural peace, we caught tantalising glimpses of places we would like to stop: Javron, Vitré, but we pressed on, through lovely rolling countryside. Apart from an unpleasant moment on the Auray by-pass we found our site easily, and we were at first a little disappointed. It seemeed so vast and busy compared to the little site we had left, but we came to like it for its superb cleanliness. The children quickly made friends round the sand pit and even seemed to enjoy helping with the chores; fetching the bread, washing the clothes and washing up though Joanne, age six, could only just reach the sinks.

History and beauty surrounded us, and to the children's delight there were many beaches to choose from. The local beach was a short drive away across some dunes. It created quite a stir one day when we were stuck in the soft sand but a french family had fun pushing us out. Wherever we went our old car stimulated plenty of interest and curiosity. We, on the other hand, were envious of the experienced campers who effortlessly swung their rigs to maximise sun and privacy and blck the breeze. It was an art we could not seem to perfect although our faded awning and 'mature' rig created an aura of being well travelled.

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Quiberon peninsula provided beaches for every occasion, but I think our favourite time was the evenings when we could walk along the empty sands playing silly games. The sunsets were always spectacular through the sea mists and the beauty more awesome for its emptiness. As well as the 'stones' we enjoyed shopping in Carnac and Carnac plage made quite a contrast with its more sophisticated atmosphere but the children enjoyed it for its very safe bathing. A boat is high on the list of requirements for next year especially bearing in mind the beauty of the Golfe du Morbihan and the exploration of its coves. It was there too that we discovered that crepes and galettes taste much better eaten from the hand, which is nice, because they are cheaper that way. The roads became busier so we headed away from the coast, finding many places of beauty and interest. In fact lying in the long grass at the water's edge near Nostang as the tide crept in, watching the waterfowl dabble and swoop, is one of the best memories.

Brennilis, our next stop, was a complete contrast. The site, at the edge of a lake, was green and luxuriant. Each emplacement was hedged with herbacious shrubs. The skies seemed to lean broodingly on the hills opposite which had all the grandeur of a mountain range. Windsurfers assed to the scenic beauty. When a local Pétanque match was played on the gravel outside our caravan we had a granstand view: the players seemed to enjoy having an interested audience, growing more flamboyant and appealing to us for support. The gruesome past related with blood-curdling accuracy created no sense of reverence in the children as they rushed inside to look for bones and sat on top to be photographed. And sitting on top of Montagne St. Michel was like sitting on top of the world - it felt as if we could see forever.

Having read the Michelin Guide I was really looking forward to the walks around Huelgoat. The town, sited on a lake, was very pretty and we enjoyed a stroll through the market. By now we were 'experts' at shopping and enjoyed sampling local sausages which we barbequed and trying different cheeses and fruit. Shopping done we set out on our walk, only to find that we were surrounded...

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...surrounded by hundreds of other people clutching their green guides. We watched the trembling watched the trembling rock and followed the well-beaten paths. The woodlands were beautiful and it would be lovely to return at a less busy time and truly appreciate the majesty of the scenery.

North again, hoping to explore the Northern coastline, the children looking forward to their second dose of sea and sand. Fascinated by the town of Morlaix, we felt confident enough to break our itinery and base ourselves at Guimaëc. We were very impressed by the intimate bays with their dramatic rocky back-drops, but the weather was such that lounging and bathing were out of the question. On day, clambering over the rocks at Pointe Diben, we found a wholesale fish warehouse: Sammy and Jo were intrigued by the huge tanks of crabs, lobsters and colourful fish. As the weather worsened we made a dramatic decision - we would break completely with our plans and use the freedom the caravan gace us; we would head south for the sun.

Again the route was a rural one, but direct and if the weather had been better we would have loved to see more of Corlaix and Pontivy. But we were sun-hungry. Some chips bought in a lay-by were a treat which was nearly spoilt by thew price, but we attacked the journey with renewed enthusiasm. By La Roche-Bernard we were all feeling weary, the sun was shining however. Leafing frantically through the camping guides we tried Herbignac, but the site seemed too crowded for us. A site near Assérac caught our attention and we pulled in there - it was a lucky find. Much larger than it first appeared, the caravans were well spread out on grassy fields. There were several swings and sand-pits, centres of social life for our youngsters and plenty of opportunity for making friends.

Once again we were able to enjoy the beach life. There were numerous small coves within easy driving distance and we had fun exploring them. Some were very popular but early or late...

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...in the day we had them almost to ourselves. One rainy day we 'found' Guérande, and having read nothing about it we were amazed at how well the character of this medieval city had been preserved - something the French seem to do so well. As a complete contrast La Baule seemed very modern. Fortunately its banks were open over Assumption which saved us great embarrassment as we had not realised it was a holiday.

As the gloomy weather closed in once again, we started our meander back. Would Pré-en-Pail seem as attractive after our experiences? It did and more. This time we took time to discover the beautiful Alpes Mancelles with its attractive unspoilt vilages. Walking around St. Céneri, and drinking coffee outside an auberge remains one of the highspots of the trip, as does the first sight of the church at La Ferté-Macé.

The journey to Normandy was dominated by the magnificent view over the Seine opposite Jumièges. For no real reason we were heading to Héricourt-en-Caux and were not disappointed with the picturesque location of the site. Strangely there did not seem to be many touring caravans, maybe this was due to the primitive condition of the showering facilities. One Saturday morning I went to clean my teeth and found the ladies' room full of semi-naked footballers - apparently we shared the facilities, though they spread more mud than we did! We tried not to dwell on the fate of the pony herd across the stream as they added to the enjoyment for our daughters and the ambiance, and we enjoyed many pretty walks and trips around the area. Yvetot stands out for the friendly market. We were encouraged to try the local soft cheese - it was delicious; samples of soft fruit were offered to us as we walked round. Hardly mentioned in the tourist books, the town has a great deal to offer in terms of hospitality.

By now we had so many good campsites that we were perhaps becoming over-confident. Driving through the gathering gloom that heralded Hurricane Charley, we picked out several sites near Boulogne. As the wind started to gust, bringing torrential rain, we selected a disappointing compromise and searched the sodden landscape for an interesting place to bring my parents for lunch the next day.

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At least we had our cosy old caravan - they spent eight hours the folllowing day on the ferry, determined as only grandparents can be, to spend the day with us. But, as usual, the best things are unexpected, and a respectable looking bar in Desvres transpired to have a large comfortable, friendly restaurant at the back. We had an excellent, typically french, long lunch which more than compensated for the weather and is still a family talking point.

In the aftermath, our crossing next day was not as smooth as before, but that could not dim the pride in our 'vintage' rig: three thousand miles of trouble-free motoring, the car averaging 24.8 m.p.g. and the holiday of a lifetime behind us. Of course we are going again next year having experienced the friendliness, freedom and thrills of a cravan holiday, anything else would be tame!

The End