Thursday 6 February - Campsite Occurrences

Weather: Still wall-to-wall sunshine with mid-teens highs.

With the intention to leave the campsite tomorrow, I thought I'd take the opportunity to do a final load of laundry before we left.

As is the norm, once I'd put my load on, I left my bag on top of the machine for use when it had ended. I duly returned 33 minutes* later to find that someone had nicked off with my carrier bag! Why would you do that? The value is inconsequential (I replaced it this afternoon for 65c), which perhaps makes it even more annoying. I am, of course, now watching out for someone walking around the site with a heavy-duty Morrison's bag! (*As an aside, why do washing machines lie as to time remaining? It told me 33 minutes when I left and I set an alarm on my phone accordingly; when I returned it still had 7 minutes to go.)

Given how seldom we have historically stayed on campsites outside of the UK, this is not making for a good track record. In Silves, in Portugal, someone nicked my sports bra off the communal washing line.

With laundry hung out to dry, off I went to take a look at the coast to the S of Peniscola. As soon as I turned right at the bottom of the road, rather than left along the prom, I was out of the resort and the coast was rugged. However, there was also no pavement alongside the wiggly, undulating road, and whilst it wasn't overly trafficked, there were enough cars to make me think it wasn't the best choice for a running route.

Today's other campsite peeve came late this afternoon, when someone came and took the final pitch available today, right next to us. It seems they were confounded by the pitch markings and thought they needed to squeeze between the red and blue lines on the ground - failing to notice the really big hint of the pitch number being marked adjacent to each of the red lines, tellling them that they can ignore the blue line. That means that their door almost reaches to Bertie's flank when it is open. They've just nipped out and it would be quite amusing if we were to move over whilst they were gone, right to the edge of our pitch (most people position themselves thus; not sure why we didn't), which would mean they wouldn't be able to open their door. Of course, I'm neither petty nor cruel enough to do that (as much as it would amuse me).

So, tomorrow morning we are due to be away from here. To where, though, that's the question?

A procession of processionary caterpillars. Seen loads of nests in various places, but don't think I've seen any in motion before.