I’m in a bungalow! I unpack furgone, had a shower, changed, heard a rumble and thinks it's the ristorante but no it's thunder!
Its 4.15pm I open the front door to torrential downpour - a monsoon with knobs on.
Its so severe I forgo the restaurant and have ready brek instead, we are in the eye of a great electrical storm which even 19 hours later at noon the next day has not abated it keeps going round the mountains above us.
The gardens in front of the bungalows were all 6 inches deep in a great sweeping flood in the rush to the sea, I exaggerate not! All the bungalows are surrounded by water. The owners came to ask if I am OK. I am.
I have coffee, tea, no milk but cup of soups x2 (minestrone of course) and a jar of Baxters sliced beetroot, a packet of crisps and some all bran which if mixed with water is palatable - not great but edible. A feast!
At least I have to get on with my blog but no! the power cuts on and off as an increasing electrical storm approaches. The phone won’t work but I eventually get through to Elly before I'm cut off to say tell everyone I'm OK, time to go to bed!
The storm finally abated last night at 1pm the silence woke me up, I looked outside the front door, and it's still torrential rain out there. I was better off than most on this site.
There were no tent campers, only motor homes (who were above the flood level on the middle of the main site) just as well really as the camp entrance bridge above the river, although intact was impassable due to mud, logs and debri coming over onto the bridge and blocking it. So we couldn't get in or out until half an hour ago it is now 2pm and I have managed with what I have had food wise.
My plan was to spend the day painting watercolours. But I have to think that
A) God does not like water colourists and B) hates bungalow dwellers C) has got f**k all else to do in the world except pursue me through Europe down through Italy and into sicily.
Is there any truth in this or is paranoia setting in? The bungalow and gardens are brilliant. I've got central heating, electric, hot water, a fridge, superb bathroom, double bed, kitchen and sofa and in the garden a brick built table and chairs.
Today Iv’e caught up on my washing, caught up with my blog, so I'm going to shave and go into town to get supplies.
There's no telly here so I might go to the restaurant tonight or stay and have a heart to heart with Grover . He is still severely pissed with James for dumping him in the attic for the last 14 months but I’ll talk him round.
Ferry:
First night in bungalow:
Take me I'm yours!
Next day floods:
River in the garden:
Path to the beach after the rain stopped:
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