Well as Des Lynam would say “It was a game of two halves” and yesterday was just that.

It all started so well. My ‘to do’ list had quite a few things on it and first was to get a large tarpaulin for Cristine. 

There was always going to be rain on my journey and 4 months ago and I searched high and low for and adequate tarp. I ended up buying one from Decathlon but it was too small. 1 day later I went to Lidl in Jerez and bugger me there was one there 3X the size for the same price. I went back to Decathlon to change the original one but no joy. I went back to Lidl to buy it anyway and it had gone.Arrrrhhh.

I knew there and then that that was going to come back and haunt me in the future and it did.

"Chinese man snaps up last tarpulin from Lidl"

However, on my first stop of the day at Bricomart, bugger me if I found a tarpaulin not only bigger but cheaper too. What a result. Things are looking up.

Next was to check out the train travel to Nice centre. I am in Biot which is approximately 18km from Nice. I walked to Biot station and asked for the price of a daily return.

She hummed and harred. My god I thought you don’t even know the price of the ticket that you probably sell more than anything else. She tapped on her keyboard slowly….

“€7.50” she finally replied.

“Ok so how much is a weekly” I asked

She turned to her keyboard….Tappety tapppety tap….This is going to take ages I thought. I glanced at my watch and the next rain was in 5 minutes after that an hour later.

I was expecting somewhere in the region of €30…..

 “€11.50” she said

“I’ll have one “I said quickly

Then she took her time to get all the details in the computer, made a mistake and re-started….come on….come on….., as I glanced at my watch.

With 30 seconds to go she passed me my weekly pass and I ran out for the train. I jumped on and the doors closed right behind me. Phew made it and what a bargain with the train ticket and I managed to get the train. 

"Result" 

"Make up your mind"

I got off at Nice Centre and skipped my way to the VeloBlue office. It’s where you find out about getting a pass to hire the ‘pick up and drop off anywhere’ city bike scheme.

20 minutes later I was skipping out of the office with my yearly Veloblue card in my hand.  Within 5 minutes I was cycling through the streets of Nice on my way to the internet café. I arrived and bugger me there was bike parking spot right outside L’Annexe café. 

"€79 for a Chainsaw!  good value I thought"

I deposited my bike in the bike rack and bounced my way inside and just as I did the heavens opened and it chucked it down. Well that was a bit of luck I thought.

I powered up the laptop and punched in the address of the Language School I am going to be attending over the next month to learn or rather improve my French.

The address came up and when I looked on the map it was just around the corner from the café I was in. 

"RESULT" 

I finished my coffee and croissant and as I did so the rain stopped and blue sky appeared. I trotted round the corner to the Alliance Francaise offices and Jean-Philippe, on the front desk,  told me that there was a special offer on the course next month and it worked out that it was half the price I originally thought it was going to be. 

"Resultamente!"

My next task was to somehow open bank account. I did mention this to Jean-Philippe the guy at the information desk at the Language school.

“Pas de problem” Jean-phillippe replied

It transpires that he knows the bank manager around the corner and is well accustomed to opening accounts to foreigners and he would help me with that. 

RESULTAMENTE !!!.

"So you would like to open an account Mr Sprackling"

It was 17:00 when I left and I picked up my VeloBlue and decided to head home, very happy with the day’s successes.

I cycled along Promenade de Anglaise changing my bikes every 30 mins so as not to incur any charges. I got to the airport, a very pleasant 30 mins cycle ride however, by then the storm clouds were building in the distance. I thought I better head straight for the train station. Looking at the map, the closest train station was St Agustin and was 5 minutes by bike, well it would have been if I was the other side of the 6 lane boulevard.

My luck was starting to change I thought and not for the better. I had to cycle back the way I came ten minutes to get to the only crossing then back the other side another 15 to get to the station. Oh well I thought ‘Ce la Vie’

I had a quick look at the timetable and there was a train at 6:12 which I could easily get. But by the time I found somewhere to park the bike and walk a further 5 minutes I realised it was a lost cause.

At 6:13 I was outside the station resigning myself to the fact that I had missed my train but wait, there were locals still running for the train, it had been delayed. I joined in and we ran down the stairs, along the underpass and we all ran up the steps the other side to the platform only to see the train slipping out of the station on its way. 

"The 6:12 to Cannes is late"

If I had known what was going to transpire, because of missing that train I would have sprinted like Usain Bolt to get it. I cursed my luck and yes, it was changing rapidly. The next rain was 30 mins time at 6:43. Not too bad I thought then I glanced skyward and it didn’t look good. The clouds were thickening before my very eyes.

6:43 came and went and up popped a message on the train display….”En Retard” . Great I thought, I had almost forgotten what it was like to commute.

7:10 and the train finally arrives. Standing room only came as no surprise. 

By 7:45 we were one stop short of Biot and I leaned across my fellow commuters and squinted skyward. Hmmm not good, I am going to have to get a wiggle on when I get off I thought.

The km walk to back to the campsite I did in double time half expecting the first drops of rain to hit my face but none came.

By 8pm I was back at my pitch, starving and ready for a glass of cheap wine. The sky was black and about to dump its tanks. I had to erect quickly some sort of shelter if I was going to get anything cooking. 

All I had was the smaller of the two tarpaulins, two bamboo poles and string.

Luckily I the two things I have in abundance are string and cheap wine.

I felt the first drops of my face as I reached into my rucksack to get my car keys out. Could I find them? not a chance. They had been there, i was sure.

After 10 minutes cursing and searching I had to give up on the old keys and find the spare set at the bottom of my suitcase and I needed to make the shelter fast as the rain was starting to get a little heavier.

If only I hadnt missed that train

I remembered one of Bear Grylls episodes of Ultimate Survival. The Siberian Wetlands I seem to recall. 

I just knew all those hours watching him were going to come in useful one day and that day was right now.

“Keep your clothes dry. If you going to get wet take your clothes off so you have dry clothes to put on later.” came his voice echoing in my head as if Bear was talking to me directly.

The rain was really coming down now and I stripped to the waist and chucked my shirt into the tent.

My luck had definitely gone AWOL.

After 20 minutes in the darkness and rain I was soaked. My tarpaulin shelter was more akin to a wall than a roof, and it didn’t help that the knife I had to cut the household string was, to put it bluntly, not the sharpest.

I pulled the two bamboo poles I bought all the way from Valencia with me, I knew they would come in handy, out of the car. With one corner of the tarpaulin tied to a tree, one corner tied to Cristine and the other two corners propped up by the bamboo poles  I had finally erected my shelter albeit a little high.

Wet-through I grabbed a towel from the car and dried myself and put on my dry shirt I had taken off earlier and yes it was warm and dry. Cheers Bear you were right.

My shorts were wet but being linen and very light they were bearable. Even better was that in the back of my car was my fleece. Happy days as I put it on and immediately began to warm up.

After drying the chair I managed to spark up the primus and get somewater on.

As the water began to boil on my primus, the rain started again and with it the wind, which made it quite uncomfortable as the two corners of the tarpaulin being held up by the bamboo poles was at least 2 meters high.

As I sat there I realised my solution was quite simple. I had to cut a foot off the bottom of each bamboo pole, I wouldn’t even have to dismantle any of the ties holding the poles up, and that would bring the whole thing lower and more snug. Brilliant.

So as not to get my lovely warm fleece wet I waited for a break in the rain. 5 minutes later I stepped outside my cover and bent down to cut off the bottom 12 inches of the strut. I got to work with my Swiss army knife and I had soon cut through. Still holding the pole at the bottom  I gently lowered it to the ground. 

Thats when all the rain that had gathered on the tarpaulin ran off the roof and cascaded onto my back.

“FOR F**S SAKE” I shouted in the darkness.

I am soaked again and the rain started again. Welcome to camping I thought to myself.

The magical blueness of the sea on the cote d’azure was farthest thing on my mind at that point as I cut through the other pole.

I did improve the shelter immensely then the rains stopped.

Then it started again.

"Pas Result"