One night in Saint Imoges
The Friday-night dash for Folkestone, the first chapter of all our European adventures, isn't ever going to be a holiday highlight. There's usually a traffic hold up on our journey to the Eurotunnel terminal.
Once safely across the channel, French motorways are a dream to drive on. We put our watches forward an hour and the sun was going down as we continued our drive south.
Saint Imoges is a perfect overnight stopping point being just ten minutes off the motorway, with a generously-sized aire de camping car in woodland, next to a lake and just outside the village.
It was still 21°C when we stepped out of the van into the pitch-black night. There was a light breeze but it was warm, like a summer-holiday evening. It was midnight and the only sounds were ours, as we popped up the roof and put our pillows and duvet on the upstairs bed, and the faint hoot of an owl in the distance.
We had to sleep with the windows unzipped to allow the breeze to pass over us and cool us down. We both slept well and we were back on the road at 8.30am, driving south into the French countryside.
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