The holiday

S was over visiting me for a few weeks, so we decided to book a weeks holiday at one of the nearest beaches on the Med.
We managed to get a last minute bargain, that still cost about £350 for the week.
Guided by the trusty Satnav, we skirted Perpignan and found somewhere to park a few hundred yards from out flat in Canet Plage.
The flat was on the ground floor of a small block of apartments and was pretty basic. No TV or washing machine! In high season I could have paid £500 per week.
Anyway it was about 4 minutes walk from the vast sandy beach and there were small supermarkets and shops nearby.
The resort has about 7 kilometres of sandy beach and because it was the last full week in August, and the return to school and work was imminent, the place was not at all busy.

S found a nice little sea-food restaurant, the weather was very hot, a sun umbrella was bought to protect my fair skin from the rays of the sun, and all was set for a relaxing week, during which we would probably visit the neighbouring resorts, go on a boat trip to Collioure etc.
Here is a photo of my left foot relaxing on the beach. Unfortunately the angle of the shot missed my new lime-green mankini, but it would have been tricky to get everything in.

In the evening we went for a stroll along the promenade, where we found a large crazy golf course, a large parking lot and about a kilometre of small stalls selling all sorts of jewellery, African carvings, hand decorated candles etc etc. Further along still there was a road of small shops catering to the tourist, huge ice cream counters, pizza, chips, clothes, sun glasses, pottery..... I named it Blackpool.

Alas it was not to be. S spent Monday evening and all night, clutching the toilet bowl. It couldn’t have been the fish as that had been Sunday lunchtime. We had eaten and drunk pretty much the same things.
I visited the local pharmacie and got two over the counter remedies, one for each end. S spent the next day in bed while I went to the beach for a few hours in the afternoon.
By Wednesday, she was still not up to more than going to the beach of an hour or so. The sea was becoming choppier and there was a strong wind whipping up the sand, so we did not stay on the beach for long. S is not a good sailor at the best of times, but a longish boat trip was not a very appealing prospect.
We did do a trip on the small white road train which took us up to the old town, via camp sites. A journey of about 25 minutes for 3 euros.
The old town was very disappointing. The one tourist attraction is a ruined castle, which is of course closed for renovations.
There was also entertainment in big main square just across the road from the beach. Pop music, country music complete with a "crack" line dancing club from Perpignan hogging the dance space, and the day that we left, the medieval fayre was due to start. There was also a tiny travelling circus, a tiny puppet theatre also appeared, for one night only.

Always on the lookout for shots to sum up the feel of a place, here are a couple.

What wouldn't a young man or woman do to get a ride in "Big Pimpin" I wonder how many little pots of silver Humbrol paint for aicraft kits it took to titivate this little beauty!

Just across

from the Casino (no, not the supermarket Casino)

This gentleman was obviously waiting for the pole dancing to begin, staking his seat early to get his own pole.

Perhaps this could be a caption competition photo?

To be continued.....