My New Holiday Home

So, after the map reading nightmare and subsequent row we arrived at the site holiday park. Both fuming, both ready to kill. Teenage sulking because she couldn’t giggle and play to the boys. Baby just smiling and happy as she normally is, and excited because she is still at the age where everything is an adventure. We walked to beach to check it over. It took 5 minutes down a lovely typical French village high street, full of bars, restaurants and shops. Bustling but not overcrowded. The beach is a place called Vias Plage and it was spacious, sandy and the beached shelved gently so you could walk out quite a way before being out of your depth. In my case being barely 5’6” 1.65m I couldn’t walk as far as most people, but hey, size isn’t everything despite what some women might say.

We had both vowed that we were only viewing and NOT buying. No way were we going to sign anything that day. No, we weren’t gullible fools, seduced by our love of France, the warm weather, the great food, the lovely wine. The relaxed and chilled vibe of the holiday was not, no way Jose, even if Hell freezes over, ever going to weaken our resolve. We were fucking hard and sales people were merely prospective fodder for our combined cannons.

We then met the lovely Katie, our guide and sales rep. Pretty, sweet, charming and as far from the slick, besuited, smarmy sort of double glazing type sales rep I had expected. Her warm welcome seemed to soothe the mutually furrowed brows of GMD and Me and before we could really continue our feud we were being whizzed round the site in a 7 seater golf buggy. She seemed so honest as well, immediately declaring that as she wasn’t on commission yet, it didn’t make any difference to her if we bought. Not sure her boss would have been happy but it did seem that she was eager to be honest and answer our questions properly, even if the answer was not quite politically correct. Naivety, doncha just love it? Anyway, the site holiday park was clean and quiet, the pitches large, the pool complex spotless and large. It all fitted. Perfectly.

An hour was then spent looking at the vans mobile holiday homes. If ever an image was changed instantly this was it. We NEVER stay in tents because we like to have our own dump-station. A place to go and lay some decent cable, if you get my drift. A place that is only a few feet centimetres from you during the night, and not a torch-lit walk away in whatever weather is around at that moment. So we always stay in holiday homes which are just big caravans in my view. However, these things we were shown were like…well…..sort of……..similar to….well, rather nice bungalows. They had proper laminate floors, full double glazing, proper free standing beds, air conditioning and they come fully furnished, including all the crockery and cutlery. Fuck me, they’ve even lobbed a TV/DVD in for us. A 28” 70cm one, not a piddle arsed portable. Eventually we bought a 3 bedroom one with full en-suite, plus an extra bog. Apparently according to GMD that was vital, and with two girls growing up and becoming bathroom junkies I agreed. We spent 8 hours at the site as they gave us a day pass to wander around and try the pool etc. In all Katie spent about 6 hours with us, which shows some determination. But my eyes don’t lie, and my heart was telling me this was what I wanted. My own place to go, whenever I liked, to a country I regard as my second home.

It cost £36,000 €54000 because they gave us an exchange rate of €1.5 to the £ which seemed quite generous. No matter how much I look into this, I cannot find one part of the costs or the deal or the place that I don’t like. And so next year, my holiday is sorted. I’m off to my holiday home for 5 weeks of my 6 weeks leave, the other week being playing golf in Spain. I can’t wait.

Plus tard, EpicierJacques