Sat here, looking out to sea, watching the sailboats and the occasional floating gin palace through the pine trees. The man who showed me the pitch, on a golf cart, said he thought it was the best pitch on the site. “Naturellement”, I said, with a touch of irony. “Vraiment!” he said; and he might have been right. In the morning, managed to do what I’d always hoped for: to spring open the back door and listen to the waves while lying in bed.

It’s all part of the romance of having camper; a ‘bulli’. I forgot the German word for her the other day; as there are a fair few Germans round these parts, thought it might be useful: “der kleine röte bulli”. I have a stock phrase that I deploy quite often “Entschuldigen sie bitte, ich spreche kleine Deutsch.” Along with “Sie sprechen Englishe?”

Today is laundry day: Willma looks more like Widow Twankey, festooned with ten days washing. I used the site laundry, as well as my stock of German to the man at the next machine. My underpants are ranged on a line along the fence, where a line of termites are processing across the handrail. Make your own joke there. It was supposed to be laundry day yesterday, but it rained. Today we have soft fluffy clouds, and a warm breeze. I had thought to take the bus to St Tropez, but I’ll leave that for a bit.

Yesterday, to get my bearings, I strolled down to the beach, 200m away, with my walking pole. It was quite a gentle slope, though as I reached the footpath, realised I was a little too close to a young lass making her way to the beach. I slowed down, like we men do. The beach itself was nearly empty, so took off my trainers and had a paddle. Instantly decided not to go swimming there, despite the description of the sea temperature as a “mild 16-18deg”. But listening to the waves was beautiful. On the way back, through a small nature area, was hearing some birdsong that was familiar: the Merlin app showed it to be a Blackcap warbler, followed by a Nightingale. Never expected that, so close to the sea. From the pitch, the app recognised a Long-tailed Tit; Short-toed Treecreeper; and Cetti’s warbler. All of which sound the same to me.

I was able to practice my “entschuldingung” again; my near neighbours, Margot and Michael from Dortmund, NordRhein-Westfalia, got chatting. She’s twisted her wrist, maybe broken it; he’s had a sudden prostate flare up and is using a colostomy bag strapped to his calf. “But he’s OK to drive, we want to get to Germany for treatment” They are taking it steady in a number of short hops. I don’t blame them. Here with friends, they have been coming for thirty years. They are being very philosophical, probably a German trait. In turn, my mind is starting to turn to the four nights next week, I’m undecided as yet. I’ve put up a query on a Facebook group and a campsite forum, using the wisdom of the multitude. We’ll see.