never pass a pisser, never trust a fart, never waste a stiffy.
Ok well the last tour night. Santander campsite where Micks tent became a casualty of war.
Pic of a house completely covered in ivy. What?
we walked into town and found a bar after walking round the golf course on the peninsula. We couldn’t help laughing at some golfer slicing 2 onto the beach off the tee. We were laughing like kids!
Every time we go away we inadvertently join a cycle race! I mean end up escorting riders and the marshals thinking we are TV bikes. Unreal.
Woken at 7am by a blast of wicked music from a local club starting their recovery party. Not ideal but hey everyone in the valley was hearing it. Worse things happen at sea. At least RM won Champions League that night!
Higher than the cloud.
When you godda go, you godda go.
Taylux drowning in the Atlantic. Whatever.
Taylux did not approve! Looked less than appetising. I had the boeuf.
This was at a restaurant at Zugarramurdi. On the way to Saint Jean du Luz.
…things are getting desperate.
Not good. Functional only! Oh well, put up and shut up I guess. Took some photos of the other ‘residents’.
The water they sell in the bar!
The ladies. Note the door wedge.
Gents with another suitable but effective door wedge. You know when someone is in there at least. The door swings open!
Hill Billy shack.
A selection of other ‘units’!
French Friendship Practice.
Even had our own toilets. Guess which is Sooty’s?
Big waves hitting the sea walkway. Come on then!