Perfect Pitch

The voyages of the Slogship Enterprose continue. We shall tomorrow be departing the Var, and heading out towards the Western edge of Provence. In the meantime, some further lines upon the lessons learned so far.

1. Choosing a pitch close to the campsite shop sounds a good idea in theory. In practice, at 5.45 am one will be woken by the first delivery vans. This just-in-time distribution will continue at regular intervals until such time as it is normal for real people to wake up. When the last consignment has been delivered, and you have been woken from dreams about nymphomaniacs ripping off your clothes with tumescent enthusiasm for the seventh time, you will go back to sleep and thus miss the best of the day.

2. Choosing a pitch close to the lavatories may sound smelly (if such a thing be possible) but for those with ageing bladders often caught short in the middle of the night after too many Kronos, it is a Godsend. Further, when emptying the appalling contents of the camping car toilet casquette, it is very much a case of the closer the better. You would be amazed at just how much the output of the human body weighs after a few days.

3. Direction of pitch is every bit as important as service convenience…as indeed is whether to drive into the spot in forward or reverse gear. For such decisions dictate whether one’s vegetables will fry in the afternoon sun, or one’s goolies freeze in the morning mist.

4. Get as close to reception as you can.The wifi goes from lightning speed to dialup in the space of just a few rows of camping cars.

5. Putting as much distance between your pitch and the main road is perhaps the most important consideration of all. It is very similar to the criteria for choosing the location of one’s main life domicile. For that road which might seem mildly trafficked while driving along it is well capable of emitting the noises of long distance lorry drivers from 2 am onwards when you are sleeping. Or trying to.

And so the return to Planet Lot et Garonne begins. I hope to bring you regular bulletins of behaviour that is most irregular….for there is little more enjoyable than growing old disgracefully. But in the absence of anything irregular, well then…as Alistair Campbell once remarked on the Parkinson Show, “I make it all up”.

Cue raucous audience laughter.

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