Though I would have put up with the gazebo our new campsite neighbours had erected far too close to Cleopatra's boot door, Tony wasn't having any of it and was determined to move. We had, through the addition of two hammocks and two washing lines strung between trees, and a five-metre wind break, created for ourselves one massive pitch so there was room to move the van.
I resolved to continue reading my book in my hammock as Tony got exasperated by tent pegs that wouldn't come out of the ground. I had to say something when he started dismantling the wind break in a manner that said he wasn't planning on putting it back up again, to which he commented on the fact he was the one "doing everything." Clearly he was of the impression that an hour moving everything over by a few feet was a mutual decision and I wasn't pulling my weight.
So I ended up helping, just so that everything we'd set up on our arrival four days previously was put back again.
The couple who had set up so close to us had even parked their car so one wheel was on top of our electric hook up cable, such was their disregard for anyone else. He moved the car when he saw me scowling.
We were just erecting the wind break on the left-hand side of us when another set of new neighbours were pulling up in their silver VW California. This installation had progressed just far enough along for it to be obvious where we considered the end of our pitch.
Happy with the distance between us and the new neighbours on both sides we left them to their own setting-up process and retreated to the sea to cool down.