I don’t think I have too much in common with Craig Revel-Horwood – other than cutting rugs – but what I do have is sympathy for him as a judge.
I’m not really sure why anyone would want to visit Benicarló. It’s a medium-sized town developed on a grid system so easy to navigate, the beach is small and the harbour is industrial.
There was a lengthy queue to get over the border but, eventually, we’ve made it over the Pyrenees into Spain and the Costa Brava is basking in the heat of a late summer’s afternoon.
Every time it’s beautiful. Tonight the setting sun has cast a pinkish hue over the distant mountains. Twenty minutes later I return to the top of the hill and discover they are now a blue-grey.
Good news, at last, we’ve been booked for our first housesit. We’re off to Blajan in the south of France to look after an elderly boxer and rescued collie cross.
The A10 is the main Italian road that follows the Mediterranean coast heading west from Savona, if you’re not crossing a bridge you’re probably in a tunnel.
The weather has a big part to play in any nomad’s life. Our predecessors would go from place to place moving their herd to new grazing or following the migration of whichever great beast they hunted. We follow the sun, not because we want to look like David Dickinson but because we prefer a warm climate.