And so after five days on the island of Krk we crossed it’s bridge to the mainland with heavy hearts and a tear in our eyes. Actually no, we crossed with a tank full of 90p a litre petrol, 4000 fags and three £10 bottles of Jager.
We’d decided to finish off the hols with a few nights in France using the camping municipals we like. This meant going across Italy on my most hated autoroute, it runs East to West from Trieste, passed Venice and Milan. It’s a killer. Hot, absolutely chock full of lorries and prone to big hold ups.
By the time we were getting close to Milan I’d had enough and bailed out to Lake Garda. Twenty two years ago in 1988, me and Liz had done a similar tour in a camper borrowed off my Dad and we’d made it to Lake Garda.
We’d had one night there and gone back to France the next day. Crowded, tacky and expensive was what we’d thought then. She was five months pregnant and eating like a horse and I liked a drop of red, some things don’t change.
A time before kids and internet…….
We found a campsite and realised things hadn’t changed in 22 years. We were jammed in between two mobile homes with a view of a mobile home, the toilets were the hole in the floor variety and we got the honour of paying them 32 Euros a night for it.
I was grumpy and hot.
Good ridance Northern Italy. La belle Francais tomorrow.