The very next morning we were on immediate cassette toilet alert, and set off to find a suitable repository. Now, nearly all Motorhome facilities, particularly those allied to Campsites, are notoriously expensive in this “Tourist-heavy” region. But we were having none of that, oh no! With Miki’s expert navigation, we found a communal facility in the middle of nowhere, well, Ouchamps, to be precise. It started well. A really helpful kid told us where to get bread, and pointed out where the motorhome stop was, with no prompting on our part. Such a pleasure to see the milk of human kindness still flows in some parts of the world.
Breaded-up, as it where, we wound our way out into the fields and came across the site opposite a small lake, a lovely view. We fed our 2 euro coin dutifully into the machine and pressed for water. Nothing. We fed it another. Held our breath. Even more nothing. On the verge of being seriously fed up, I at least managed to empty the cassette, so life could, at least in a very basic sense, go on. It was then that I noticed the service door to the water/electric unit slightly ajar, and er, broken. I peeked in…Suffice to say, I discovered the water supply you pay for ultimately comes from the same point as the free one for the WC. So I hooked up to the other tap and began filling, feeling at least we hadn’t been ripped off for 4 euros.
I had another peek….
There were our coins, large as life (The only coins, mind you) sat in a tray. I liberated them. It was time to experiment, and oh, what a wondrous time it was! We had struggled to get our fridge running on gas in the morning, and I thought I’d try the mains supply. Nothing. I put a coin back in (secure in the knowledge that it was perpetually retrievable) Voila! Electricity! Free!
As I write, at my amply powered laptop, we have decided to enjoy the afternoon, “charging-up”. Our well-worn 2 euro coin is going through the machine faster than a dose of salts, and I for one hereby name the facility near Ouchamps as Numero Uno!
While we left the mains running, we set out on a small bike ride, confident I could negotiate a rough circuit along the country lanes that would bring us back to the Boomobile. Some time later, and not a little out of breath, we were deep in the woods on an unmade road, and I suffered an ever so slight dip in confidence….but the tree line cleared and thankfully I got my bearings so I could pretend to Miki that I had known where we were going all along!
That afternoon, we were somewhat concerned at the arrival of a chap with a video camera, who proceeded to film the wayward water/electric point.
Was he a spy for the council? Were we in trouble? Did we give a toss?
All these questions were answered as I sent Miki out to talk to him. (She has to be poked with a stick) It turns out he has a motorhome, but prior to his trip it developed a fault and he had to cancel. But he’s out travelling round, checking out all the sites, watering points, etc and carefully documenting them so that his eventual trip will be problem free. A form of ‘virtual’ motorhoming, if you will. But, I concluded after some thought, he will have already seen everywhere. What’s the point in that? Isn’t it the teeniest bit anally retentive? What price that frisson of excitement when you know you have only three fluid ounces of fresh water, and your toilet cassette is overflowing and threatening a toxic spill to rival the Bopahl disaster? Now that’s Motorhoming!
Anyway, operating on the premise that you can have too much of a good thing, and much to the consternation of an old French couple who had just pulled their motorhome up beside us, we left Ouchamps for Chartres.
After reading and enjoying Labyrinth (No, not the Jim Henson thing, wonderful though that is, the book) by Kate Mosse, (no, not that one, the one with a brain) I was keen to explore some of the locations featured in it. One being the Cathedral in Chartres, so I was full of anticipation as we headed in the direction of this ancient town with a view to getting as near as we could in order to see it the following day. Miki and I being what we are, we ended up parking in the centre, 5 minutes walk from the Cathedral, had our dinner and bedded down for the night!
Apart from the obligatory brain dead French yobbos speaking like Terry Jones as a woman in Monty Python, and hurling rubbish bins into the street (heey, that’s RADICAL boys, I can see how you started a revolution) we passed as near a quiet night as one could expect in a City Centre.
Text by Kev Moore
Drawing & Photos by Miki
Both on Planet Goodaboom
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