Way back in 1993 on our first trip in our VW Devon we stayed at a municipal site somewhere in France where we met an English couple who invited us over for drinks and nibbles. We were sitting out chatting when a rather officious gardien arrived on his bike and told us to be quiet as there was a strict silence policy after a specific time. Duly chastised we returned to our van a bit annoyed.

On reflection, however, the gardien was absolutely correct in his actions. We were in the wrong and it was his job to enforce site policy. If only the same were true everywhere. Julie mentioned in the Calderlogue that her and Neil's enjoyment of our current site at Sancerre was ruined by the inconsiderate behaviour of Irish travellers and their unruly children.

This site was lovely and tranquil until last night when things got very rowdy. We are pitched close to the Sancerre Tennis Club and, as is only to be expected, we can hear the pink-ponk of tennis balls being clouted and frequent expressions of jubilation interspersed with the occasional 'merde' and 'putain'. Fair enough.

The big problem with this site is that at present there is no site security. Administration is done by a couple of young girls who are only here between specific times and the barrier is permanently raised. Anyone can, and apparently does, enter the site unchallenged. Also, the tennis courts appear to be used as a parking area for local cycling clubs who leave their cars there, go off for a ride and then return as dusk falls. Some of them even came onto the site to use the showers and toilets. They were a bit loud but well-behaved.

When they had left, four local teenagers arrived on pushbikes and proceeded to ride around the site skidding on the roads, shouting and screaming at the tops of their voices. No one, not even the French campers said anything to them. They then moved onto the tennis courts where they continued their antics.

In the afternoon as we were returning from our bike ride three British registered mobile homes arrived in convoy (always a bad sign) and set themselves up on three adjoining pitches. They seemed very nice people but boy were they noisy as they sat eating and drinking with the volume rising along with their alcoholic intake.

At the side of the sanitary block is a public barbeque and at about 20:00 a group of French adults (we think it was the cyclists) started preparing a meal, all the time shouting, screeching and laughing at high volume. It was all so bad that we had to go for a walk along the riverside just to get away from it all.

Here's how it all ended; the barbeque party ended at 22:00 with many raucous goodbyes; Brit mobile homers - 10:30 disgraceful, they at least should have known better; kids on bikes 23:15, and I could still hear them in the distance for a while after that and then lay awake wondering if they would return. Bastards!

I felt most sorry for the cycle tourists on the site in their tiny tents for whom the racket must have been unbearable - but nobody complained. Why didn't I? Because if I had, I'd have had to sit up all night in case the yobbos came back armed with bricks to trash my car and caravan. They'd have known where I was but I couldn't identify them.

So, be wary of sites near public sports facilities and parking areas and wherever possible avoid sites without a live-in warden.

Maybe the Caravan Club IS doing something right?

I must add that last night at about 9:00pm two bloody Germans started singing to their guitar accompaniment. They were good but I don't recall being asked if I wanted to listen to it. Then a sodding woman started playing a bleeding piano accordion on another pitch. Tony Frantone has suggested that I learn to play the bagpipes but consider for a moment, if I played Led Zeppelin on my car stereo at that time and at an equivalent volume, I'd be asked to leave the site. It's the arrogance of the prats that gets to me.

And while I'm in rant mode, we in the UK are used to being treated like dirt at motorway service areas and having to park among the lorries in areas that stink of pee and diesel. The French aires are much more civilised with lovely long parking spaces especially for caravans that easy to get into and out of. So why then do bloody car drivers who have ample car spaces allocated to them insist on parking in the caravan bays? Give me strength!