I wasn't sure what to expect from our family holiday parc in Languedoc β its wordy name, Yelloh! A French Butlins in the sun, perhaps? But my expectations certainly didn't involve anything as licentiously Gallic as a naturist spa straight after breakfast. To me, being both British and extremely clumsy, this felt anything but naturel. True to form, things went all Benny Hill the moment I walked into the large outdoor pool area, with its manicured cypresses, faux Roman pillars, hydro-massage fountains and perfectly nonchalant, perfectly tanned, perfectly naked French couples.
I walked around fully dressed for 10 minutes looking for a non-existent locker to put my clothes in as bemused naturists looked at me as if, well, as if I wasn't wearing any. Finally derobed I went looking for the showers β¦ and somehow walked straight out of the back door of the spa and into the campsite, to horrified looks from my fully dressed fellow campers. Luckily, I managed a hasty, if undignified, retreat before most of the kids had looked up from their Rice Krispies.
But complete loss of dignity was almost worth it for half an hour in the blissfully quiet swimming pool, the only one on the site that wasn't an obstacle course of rubber rings, waterslides and squealing toddlers.
Most families heading for the family parcs that line the Med either fly there or floor it down the entire length of France. This southward dash becomes a charge after Paris, as half the capital packs the car and hits the autoroute.
Rather than bomb through it in two days, and miss out on all that beautiful scenery between Calais and the Med, we spent five days driving to the campsite, and another five coming back, stopping off to pitch the tent where and when we liked. It was two holidays in one: a week of frolicking by the pool for our two boys, George, three, and Archie, 11, plus a road trip taking in bits of "proper" France for mum and dad. Instead of spending 12 hours a day on the autoroute, we pottered along plane tree-lined main roads.
