Chartres has become a true test for us. Indeed, as the man said, the best of times; the worst of times. The place is wonderful, the cathedral amazing. The town that huddles around the mother church's apron strings is old, proud and charming. The shopping is terrific and the markets superb.
But the taint will remain. To be robbed on your first night and lose all cameras and spare clothes – about £2,500 in total we reckon - was bad enough. Three days seeking a car window aggravating. But finally we were ready to go and then what now seems like a jinx came back again. All set. Janet says a tyre looks soft. I look. It is. Flat!
I unpack the boot and extract the spare, a good tyre which was repaired a few weeks back and checked before we left. Flat! Expletives were not deleted. I had only a pump for topping up but another camper came to the rescue. We pumped up the flat and sped to a Midas tyre centre. A two inch cross head screw was to blame. And the flat spare? That was a weeping valve!
Two repairs would have been bad enough but with a wheel off I took the chance to check the brake pads. What do you think, I asked the man. 2000 kilometres he said. Enough to get you home. Not going that way, I said. So new pads it had to be. 125 euros later – and I reckon that was a decent price – we are able to leave.
We shall be back but I reckon it will be in a hotel in the centre ville – NOT in a van on THIS campsite.
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