A British woman in the pitch next door to ours drones on and on, a constant monologue, a commentary to her husband about her activities: ‘I’m putting this in here’, ‘I’m going to take these in’, the pegs are under there’, ‘you’ll need to wash that’. Later, once they’ve cooked their evening meal on a grill- accompanied by the commentary- she launches into a new monologue about rose wine- how the deeper the colour, the sweeter it is, or something. She intersperses each comment with ‘but I don’t know anything about wine’ or ‘I know bugger all about wine’.

When I meet her at our shared water tap she treats me to a story about her new, grey top and how the wind blew their washing rack on to their teapot, which in turn tipped over on to it and she doesn’t know how she’ll get it dry.

Next morning they’re engaged in the commentary-laden project of moving their caravan into a new position- a task that seems to require emptying it entirely and using their car to manoevre it round. This is apparently [or so I can’t help hearing] due to their lack of shade. So when a member of staff comes along to tell us we must either leave or move because we only booked three nights it’s not too much of a catastrophe- except that I feel incensed that there’s no acknowledgement that we did, in fact, reserve for four nights.

We’ve been here, at La Trinite sur Mer, for a couple of days. For our first day, which was a little overcast and breezy, we walked around the town then, on a whim, took the ‘Noddy’ train trip out to the Standing Stones at next door Carnac- which are an amazing, vast, neolithic site, although we’ve been before. The little train is relaxing and there’s information on the headphones, of course. Back in town we get a coffee, served by [yet another, for those following this blog] ill-tempered woman. Not all the bars and cafes along the prom are open.

Yesterday we took the van out [partly in the interests of battery charging] and looked at a few places- some beautiful wild dunes by a deserted beach where we lunched, Port Louis, which hadn’t yielded a coffee shop. The weahter was hot, sultry and sticky, making walking and sightseeing hard work. Then thunderstorms moved in, the rain so heavy we needed to pull in and stop to wait it out.

When I wake on the third morning there’s sune pouring in and a fresher feel. We can sit outside, have coffee in the sunshine, read a book. In the afternoon we walk down a cute footpath outside the entrance to the site and up around the headland, the coast rock-strewn and rugged, then it turns along the beside small beaches and back towards the town.

We’re off again next day, heading south towards an area we’ve visited several times- around Pornic. To get there we must cross the stunning bridge at Saint Nazaire which crosses the Loire at its estuary- then we’re over and heading on in blue skies and sunshine…

For fiction by me, Jane Deans, search for novels: The Conways at Earthsend [an eco-thriller] and The Year of Familiar Strangers [mystery drama]. Visit my website: janedeans.com