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Vacances en France

Seven hundred miles we travelled,
Across both land and sea.
Because our friends had told us,
France was lovely as could be.

Two caravans we towed there,
To a villa called ‘la Ronce’,
They’d been there, so many times,
But us, well just this once.

We arrived a little weary,
They’d a puncture on the way.
A tyre blew off their caravan,
And ripped the side away.

We stopped and then a gendarme,
Called a man to change the wheel.
Like something from a storybook,
The scene was quite unreal.

We finally reached the campsite,
And drove in through the gate.
To begin our three week holiday,
We thought, now this is great.

They put us on two pitches,
That were near a mile apart.
And placed us both in sinking sand,
I threatened to depart.

They realised I meant it,
So they gave us two good sites.
Where we were pitched together,
And could gossip through the nights.

We spent our days by swimming,
On the glorious Français coast.
By evening we were drinking wine,
To cool our daily ‘roast’.

We took along our teenage kids,
With us they did not stay.
But spent their days, with friends in bars,
And made us parents pay.

The lifestyle there so different,
From the one we had at home,
A slower pace of living,
And not pestered by the phone.

We thought we were in heaven,
As we sweltered everyday.
While watching nudists on the beach,
Where we would swim and play.

But there was ‘one little drawback’,
Just a tiny one, you see.
The site had other visitors,
That drank much more than me.

These nasty little creatures,
Had a taste for human blood.
And feasted on our bodies,
Like nought but vampires should.

Swollen up from head to toe,
And even on our bum.
We looked like we’d been rolled in thorns,
Then toasted by the sun.

Amongst our cherished memories,
When we finally left our sites.
We took home thoughts of sunny days,
While scratching insect bites!

Ivor G Davies

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