We sleep right through to 08:00 and wake to clear skies, or what we can see of the sky through the jungle of tee shirts and undies hanging all around to air.

After breakfast it all gets put away and the inside gets a good clean and tidy. We are delayed leaving the pitch by chatting to an English couple camping with their young daughter, and thus just beaten to the service point by a Frenchman who would make a sloth look like Usain Bolt. Eventually he is done and drives off slowly. Ali does our van much quicker but when she goes to close the grey water tank the valve lever breaks off in her hand. Something to sort later.

We need LPG as our gas tank is showing less then 25%. Yesterday we saw it was available at E. Leclerc supermarket a mile away. It's the first time Ali has done this alone, although she has watched Nick W do it a few times. It takes a couple of goes to lock the nozzle on and we get a few time-outs as the pump needs to start within a few seconds of locking on, but she gets it done and walks to the kiosk while Nick brings up the van. Staff are changing shift and we get a Saturday teenager kissing her colleague goodbye, not knowing which pump we were on and generally not listening. Finally she rings up the €15.11 on the till but give Ali change for €20 instead of the €50 handed to her, and she cannot understand Ali in French or English. Nick sees what is happening and switches off the engine with three cars waiting behind. After a bit of international negotiation she grudgingly looks in the till and hands over the misplaced notes. Entente cordiale resumed.

By the time we've done some shopping it's nearly 14:00 and we have 120 miles to our next stop, but it's mostly dual carriageway and not too busy. North of Poitiers the opposite carriageway is at a standstill but we're lucky. Just where the Paris and Angers roads separate, ours is clear while the Paris route comes to a standstill.

Six miles off the motorway, at 16:40, we reach our Passion; Musee Maurice Dufresne, a museum of machinery, arms and curios. We are parked under trees next to the river Indre beside a row of decrepit tractors awaiting restoration. Ali buys our tickets for the morning, we could have started our tour this evening but the hostess said better to do it all in one go.

We watch for ages as a wren forages in the pile of logs nearby then look at some options for tomorrow and Monday.

Pizza for supper as dappled light through the trees turns to dusk.