I got going early with a fear of a new thunderstorm which never came. I felt very smug having examined the ‘shorter distance’ route that the Garmin arranged for me on my map and it looked like a nice twisty route free from those boringly efficient motorways. However before 10 minutes of riding I was lost and after surrendering to Emily (the name of the Bitish voice) I found myself on what looked suspiciously like motorways to me. I must have been dehydrated because shortly after one stop for coffee and an almond croissant at a service station where all the white ad red uniformed staff were assembled outside for a photograph I felt woozy enough to stop at a parking platz mit WC and drink huge amounts of water and wash out my sore eye (I blame it on the pillowlessness of this trip). Just when I was getting despondent my route took me onto the lovely twisty, empty recently tarmaced roads that I really enjoy; they weave in and out of pine woods, getting dark and damp and beautifully scented, then out into the sunshine again. I arrived at this final campsite of the trip as I did the last one, with a doubting heart. By today I was feeling that I have had one or two more camping days than I really wanted. I arrived at lunchtime with a queue of others waiting to get on the site. The lady running the place only had a few words of English but she directed me to the space for tents. I followed the route past the huge always white mobile homes and caravans to a cute field right away from everyone else and I set up camp in the shade (its been really hot and humid today) and right next to a gurgling stream. This has been the nicest spot I’ve had so far. I’ve even paid for wireless internet access which i am doublful about ever working. For 3 euro I get ein stunde (one hour to you).

I walked up to the nearby town with the fantasy of purchasing some pork, white wine and cream to cook a last delicious meal in my private little corner (by the way I forgot to say that I have my very own park bench – so the chairlessness problem is solved). I found the town extremely strange with a number of shrines and then shops that sold a range of goods that corresponded to nothing I had ever come across. Of course I was looking for a supermarket but a butcher would have done. The first emporium resembling a supermarket sold crisps, warm wine and beer and the rest was haircare products. I replaced my wire basket and kept looking. The only other place resembling a supermarket had about 20 various items layed out in the space that you might normally expect to see 200. The owner was an unamused man with a moustache and long grey hair using a 1960s vintage cash register. Was this some kind of statement? I’m not sure. Ive bought a red pepper a leek, two beers (cold) and some Kirsh filled chocolate. He gave me a box to carry them back down the road to the site.

I’ve spotted the only other Brit I’ve seen on this trip, sitting reading ‘Mystery man’ with his feet up on a red LDV ex-Parcelforce van just up the field. I plan to accost him with the greeting ‘Where’s my parcels, then?’ Also in my field are a sweet German couple, she seems to have had a stroke and was almost speechless when I first tried to strike up my hopeless German conversation as we waited for the counter to open, and another man from Denmark, casually flaunting a colostomy.