The foot hits the floor. Wheels spin in a blaze of gravel from the tennis club car park and hapless Russians on the grillplatz dive for cover in a shower of Stary Melnik.
It was a long drive from the Albtal to Bavaria. Congestion, roadworks, wrong turns. We knew we were getting close when the smell of manure seeped through the air vents. Farming country. Our base for the next week had meant to be Waldbad Camping Isny. Not any more it wasn’t.
When we arrived, it appeared that the pitch we’d booked had been given to someone else. The office was closed, the place was fully booked, there was no out of hours number. A guy in the restaurant said we could park by the tennis courts up the road and try again in the morning. We drove up to take a look.
Indignation turned to rage. Why the hell should we go back, cap in hand, tomorrow to a place that let us down today? A campingplatz half an hour further down south had space. Sod it, we’ll take our goddam business elsewhere… HIT IT.
30 minutes later. Hallo-o-o-o Gitzy!