The First Separation (by Kate)

Before now, the longest Theo and I had spent apart since we got together was two nights, so a seven-day separation was going to be an interesting experiment. Could I still remember how to cook for myself? Would I remember details like doing the laundry? How would I fare without the daily backgammon challenge?

Theo obviously shared some of my concerns, because before he departed he cooked extra portions of moussaka and vegetable korma to put in the freezer in case I went hungry. Believe me, there was never any danger of that - apart from an uncomfortable period when I was suffering with acute IBS (the most effective and unpleasant weight-loss plan I have ever experienced), I have always relished my nosh.

Of course, there are aspects of solo living which are wonderful - things like retiring to bed early with a book and not disturbing anyone else when you read it for hours; dining as and when you like without being barked at for procrastinating when food is ready; devoting yourself to nattery girly get-togethers without any guilt about neglecting your beloved and faffing around on the computer without someone else drumming their fingers while they wait for their turn.

But of course, I missed him very much. And not just his proven abilities in the domestic sphere (he really is a most excellent manslave). Telephone conversations, even with strict instructions not to forget to be loving and not to sound too impatient to end the call (Theo's telephone style with me in the past has been business-like to the point of being curt) just aren't the same.

Most of all, the week apart made me freshly appreciate the affectionate, devoted man I married. Absence may not make the heart grow fonder, but it definitely makes you wake up to what you've got.

The freedom of free camping...

There is a definite art to finding the perfect place for overnight repose, safe from uninvited visitors and unwanted interruptions. Our free camping so far has been in a ferry port carpark (convenient with good facilities, but hardly picturesque); a closed campsite (kind of cheating, but a useful spot); at an aire de loisir by a fishing lake, where motorhomes were forbidden to park overnight (luckily Sheena isn't obviously a camping car and anyway, no one came to check); and at an aire de loisir by the Canal du Midi, along with a group of other transient motorhomes.

In France, free camping is not generally encouraged because the country is so richly endowed with official sites, most towns, even those of modest size, boasting at least one municipal campsite. These are great for being able to use proper loos and showers plus the availability of water and electricity hook-ups, their general level of security and the flatness of the plots.

But, as we have found, many do not open until mid-April at the earliest. Also, you generally have to check into the campsites by 1800 or 1900 at the latest, which can inconveniently cut short sightseeing or stints of driving.

But free camping does have its drawbacks. You could indiscriminantly park up and kip like a long-distance lorrydriver, but that kind of utilitarian, service-station camping doesn't quite cut it somehow for a honeymoon or holiday. So we have found ourselves driving numerous kilometres seeking out a more agreeable spot, looking for lacs and aires de loisirs on the Michelin road atlas that might offer the right surroundings. Thus the amount we save in campsite fees is at least partly offset by the extra diesel expended en route.

Some motorhome afficionados clearly know of good free camping park-ups because you see clusters of them choosing the wagon-train approach to road-trip stop-offs and grouping together for safety in numbers. Going off-piste has its advantages if you hit on a gorgeous secluded oasis, but they are not the easiest to find. Eventually exhaustion will lead you to lower your priorities an settle for roadside avec les autres winnebagos, as it did on our way back from Carcassonne. It's the worst night's sleep I've had in Sheena, partly because I didn't feel secure in the aire we'd chosen and partly because of an uncomfortable recurrence of the IBS with which I am frequently plagued. However, I reckon we'll get better at this free camping business as we accumulate more experience. As for the IBS, I'll just make sure I cut down on cheese with my evening meals.