The forecast rain never came last night but this morning's air is fresher and lighter. We service the vans and set off from this convenient, well appointed site prepared to fight our way out of Budapest, but the traffic is very light and soon we are crossing the Danube for one last time. We've turned westwards after Budapest being our most easterly point, but we're still heading south as well.

It isn't long before an Aldi sign looms large and we have to stop for a study of the carpark.

Travelling south east from the city the scenery opens out into vast flatlands of cereal crop and a few fields of the purple flowers we saw before.

Near Gardony we pass a large lake but it is separated from the road by a railway, so we find a pleasant parking spot for lunch but without the lake view.

Past Szekesfehervar the land is much hillier; rolling grassy downs with small clusters of woods, a bit like Sussex on steroids.

We have to pull over for two fire engines pelting along kicking up dust, closely followed by a white Audi with hazards flashing. A mile later they are coming serenely towards us and as both only have driver and one passenger we assume it was a training run.

The route 71 climbs to give us our first view of Lake Balaton, central Europe's largest fresh water lake which covers some 600 sq.km., reknowned for its vivid green colour. We drive along the less commercialised north bank, getting frequent views of the lake and its far shore through banks of trees.

We decide against the 950 space site at Balatonfured and head on to Badacsonytomaj arriving at Tomaj Camping at 16:40.

We park within sight of the lake, set up the vans then take a drink to the lakeside where we watch ducks ans of all things a watersnake. N+G have a swim then Grete converts the cost of this morning's shopping; A pair of jelly sandals £2.00; 12 bottles of beer £3.50;and a load of other stuff at take home prices.

As the temperature drops to 24C we set up the BBQ to cook supper.

We enjoy our chicken and baked potato with some local 90p/bottle red wine [although not Bulls Blood which is made nearby], listening to alternating cacophonies of beer-keller singing and a load of frogs squawking at the lakeside. The frogs ar still deafening long after the singers have retired for the night.