It’s five days since I last posted, so time for an update! Firstly, to explain the title: I’ve been on the UK Campsite forum for about ten years, as Morepints (Rosie was Ginandtonic), and for a while there was a long discussion about where to go in France to see the Golden Oriole. I got caught up in the excitement and decided it was a suitable object for a quest. Well, today I took myself for a walk, across the river from the campsite and up a rarely used country track. Passing a stand of ash trees near the river, heard a birdsong – was it a nightingale? A blackcap? Similar, but not sure. Time to fire up the Merlin app. Eurasian wren, then ….. Golden Oriole!

Knowing this was a shy fella, and difficult to spot in the high canopy, I walked on, the heard the song again, so stood a short while looking at the apparent source of the song. Then spotted a flight of about five birds moving from tree to tree, one of which was a brief flash of yellow and black. Finally my search was complete. The Holy Grail had been located. Cue majestic organ chords.

A couple of days ago, while waiting for the youngsters to arrive, I’d walked the river the other way for a while. There’s clearly been a lot of rain, both here and in the mountains. The information board at reception has instructions as to what to do if you get stuck on your pitch, and there’s evidence that this hasn’t been uncommon, big muddy ruts where tow cars have struggled. The river too is nearly overflowing in parts, and the weir by the site is gushing torrents.

When Matt, Jen, James and Lily arrived, I had a strong sense of completion. This was what the adventure had been building to. I sat on the wall outside, as I had so often before, and tracked their position on the Iphone, probably too frequently. Then big hugs all round when the car hove into view. And it’s been lovely, an arms length family reunion. Their friends from last year are here too, so we have two extended families together, lots of joking about, a little drinking, and lots of lizard hunting.

While Matt and I were out foraging at SuperU, got into a discussion with a German lady camper. “Why are there so many English here, when the scenery and climate are like home?” It was an interesting question, especially from a Bavarian whose climate is more like here than ours. I didn’t think to ask her what attracted her. Nevertheless, there are more English campers here than I’ve seen all trip. The climate is lovely , like a warm summer’s day; the wine and food are good, the site is idyllic; and I suspect social media has spread the word. I had forgotten how lovely it is, how close to the town and its amenities. Haven’t seen Ma Frau since, to tell her of my pondering.

Talking of food, it is exceptional here. My second day, popped into the Côte Dordogne. Chef Olivier Bonneval cooks well, very much in the style of Raymond Blanc (with who he learned a few years ago). Fresh and local produce, much of it from his own garden. It was there I tried nettle puree. He describes his style as Bistronomic. After the meal, I asked after his wife Amel, who has been variously Maitre d’ and pastry chef. Rather too quickly I told her of Rosie’s demise, to be met with a flood of tears, and she leant on my shoulder. Not sure who was comforting who; I did wonder if she too had been touched by tragedy. We both apologised to each other. It will be an interesting meal when we return.

The family has also eaten fine food at the Hotel Beaulieu ( with excellent wine from the http://Coteaux de Vézère; and duck at the Bar des Voyageurs. “We can suggest Magret de Canard” “ We will have three please”. I’m now stuffed. What with that, and the Golden Oriole, it’s been a good day.