So it’s been about 18 months now since we bought our little van, it’s not really a holiday anymore, it’s like another life in a different country, the first year we had the place we didn’t really go anywhere, just the local town for shopping but mainly staying on site.
Due to the face that the bar was on site too, it was easy to get into a rut and just go there for the evenings, the bar did food, I would say snack stuff, or stuff that your mum made, if your mum was a very good cook and shopped in icelands. Everything was deep fried from frozen. Sometimes it was ok, other times not, and if you had a burger the rolls were sometimes quite hard due to not either being defrosted properly or just very crap rolls. The new managers are from Cornwall, so they started importing Cornish pastys. Frozen. And doing Cornish beer and cider. The drinking laws are funny in France, so the bar could only sell beer, cider and wine, you could have a spirit but only if you had it with your meal, this got boring for me, as sometimes the end of the night you fancy a spirit. I don’t drink beer or cider, the rose wine gave me ingestion and the red wine was down through a pump so it came out cold.
The good bit about the bar was the social aspect of it, it was good to see the other residents (sounds like a care home) and just to people watch. So there was always someone to talk to.
The new managers were not helping themselves at all, shutting at 11pm every night, clearing glasses and cleaning tables at 10.30 making you feel unwelcome, barring people from the bar. If they didn’t like you, you knew about it, they also banned kids from under 14 to enter the bar.
The bar was next door to the winning pools, but they wouldn’t open the doors to that side, and didn’t do anything by the pool, to me if I had that place, I would make sure I would offer drinks etc to the people by the pool. They only really make their money in the summer months,
Our neighbours in the site come down for about 4 months over the summer, and their family fly out at regular intervals. They used to spend about £250 a week at the bar, one evening their grandson who was riding his bike poked his head in the bar door to ask his grandparents to get him a drink, Linda the landlady, screamed at him to get out of her fucking bar, naturally grandparents weren’t happy with this and have not been in since, basically taking £4K with them.
It’s strange talking to the neighbours, it’s not really a done thing in the UK anymore, people are very friendly, of course there are some you don’t like, or wind you up. But it’s strange, you go on holiday, get a text from someone saying can you come round and dye my hair for me Kev, or to take our friend to visit her husband in hospital, pick someone up from the airport, take someone shopping,
I’m looking forward to this year, as won’t be going to the bar so much and apparently quite a lot has happened on there, so waiting to hear the gossip.