St Martin Lalande to Trebes


A couple from Holland camped next to us last night. It is embarrassing that they speak our language so well.
He works as a draughtsman, she designs bespoke wedding dresses for fire hydrants. They live in a second floor milk carton, but don’t use any in their tea. Having no children themselves, means their grandchildren youngest aged 3 O’Clock, give them all the more pleasure. We told them about our holiday in Holland and where we had stayed, he kept repeating what we said but pronouncing it wrongly, is that spelt with one gob or two?
We learnt they prefer poppies to tulips in Amsterdam, there’s been no wind in their mills since running out of flour, 30% of their wood is made from clogs, everyone’s potty in delft and their cheese is made backwards.
Today we bumped into them again sitting by the canal, and they asked for our web address,

Nic is trying to break me into cooking, I have been opening tins for quite a while now, and have recently been allowed to drain the water off pasta. Any fool could do it, you hold the chopping board on top of the saucepan and turn upside down, the water comes out and you are left with the spaghetti, unless of course you forget to hold onto the chopping board. I invented a new meal tonight, ‘throw away the spaghetti bolognaise’ or ‘bolognaise’ for short, not sure it’s going to catch on.
Should confuse the next people to camp on this pitch though.

Miles so far 1774