25th June. Camping Pylone & The Bad Burger.

"You can get a burger for €2.50 over the road trumpets the Otter, I vote we eat there."

"There's never anyone sitting there, you don't know what you're eating, I don't want to be ill."

When they say Burger at the Camping Pylone restaurant they mean burger only, a big brown thing nestling on a bed of fries, no bun.

Just around the time of the dawn chorus I could feel the In-House Pylone burger sitting like I'd eaten a lump of Uranium. "If I try not to think about it I'll be alright", mind-over-stomach sort of thing.

Isabelle had gone to ablute when I turned over and my eye fell on her pizza box from last night or was it the night before that, anyway it acted like a vomit trigger.

I caught the eye of the Swiss German over the way as I discharged what looked very like cocoa flavoured traditional porridge through the unzipped tent flap.

"Didn't you hear me?" I asked of the Otter

"No."