Tannoy: "Bing Bong Bing Bong" "Hello Camping! This is to know that in 5 minuten we are having Izzi Sparnish in the sorshall womb"

Despite residing at Camping Marjal (Catral, Valencia) from early January to mid March we never did manage to say hello to Izzi Sparnish. Angela did, however, attend the "Fun Bingo", which due to a total lack of cash prizes and the need to shout the numbers out in 5 languages, turned out to be 4 hours of anything but fun.

Ditto the "Quiz Night", an exhausting evening of questions on the theme of obscurity, obscure celebrities, obscure flags and obscure facts! Luckily for them the organisers were volunteers, otherwise we would have pointed out another major stumbling block, nobody could understand the question master! His accent was impenetrable, not surprising as he was from the industrial north east….of England!

Talking of fun, a British woman cycled up to our pitch one afternoon and demanded, "Are you Motorhome Fun?" No, I replied, we are Motorhome Misery, Fun are down the next row" The lady, frightfully well spoken, then launched in to her life history and left us contemplating her final remark "I'm Joy, my husband is Steve, he's as dull as dishwater but he means well"

65 days at Europe's biggest, newest and most luxurious campsite has proved a fascinating experience. Behavioural scientists should book in here. This is the latest over wintering spot for that non-endangered species, the Snowbird. Escaping the northern winter, they flock down from Britain and Germany (predominantly) but also from Sweden, Norway, Belgium, Switzerland and the Netherlands. Estonian and Lithuanian number plates are a rare sighting but French plates are a Twitcher's heaven and prompt an excitement that suggests we need to get out more.

Over the time of our stay the nationalities have gravitated towards each other, helped by a profusion of national flags and club logos (including the yellow Smiley of the aforementioned Motorhome Fun club). However, unlike older established campsites, there are no distinct enclaves by nationality yet so Brits, Germans and Dutch can be found living alongside each other in a model of EU harmony.

Cynics (me amongst them!) would point out that this apparent friendship disguises a more practical reason for co-operation; any neighbour is better than a Spanish neighbour! That may seem a little ungrateful given we are guests in their country but the general consensus is that the Spanish are as welcome as the Visigoths were at the gates of Rome!

Their natural exuberance (the Spanish, not the Visigoths!) cannot be contained within bricks and mortar so fibreglass and canvas is completely ineffectual. The added disadvantage of Spanish neighbours is that they are never without their fully automatic noise machines, otherwise known as children.

The Spanish tend to arrive on Thursday nights for a long weekend that stretches to Monday afternoon, or Tuesday afternoon if it is a national holiday on the Monday, which to be fair only happens in every week of the year that has a Monday in it! As their old and lovingly destroyed caravans, towed by new and lovingly destroyed cars, turn in to our row of pitches the tension is palpable. "Keep going, lovely spot down in C Block, keep driving, no need to stop" is muttered in 7 or 8 northern European languages and it usually works! Sometimes though, the newbies have the audacity to slow down and eye up the vacant pitches around us (strangely there are usually quite a few of these!)

At this point I release the restraining chain and Angela staggers towards the newcomers, straitjacket straps flapping in the breeze and clutching her comforters (two bottles of Gordon's Gin and a packet of Marlboro). She rarely has chance to offer the car occupants a quick slurp before they hurtle off to the other side of camp!

For some reason even Angela couldn't prevent the encirclement of our pitch by 20 Spanish registered motorhomes one afternoon. We were about to move (to France) when we noted they weren't speaking Spanish. It was a rally organised by the Spanish branch of the British based Motor Caravan Club. Our relief soon turned to despair when we realised this was another set of "Funsters".

A steward was soon alongside to remind us that the orientation meeting would take place at 3pm "prompt" and that competition drawings needed to be displayed in front windscreens "as soon as poss". Now I'm not the sort of person to knock organised events but there really is a time for karaoke, (1970s Japan springs to mind), and a campsite full of innocent bystanders is not really the place, especially when it involves a tuneless deaf Scouser with Elvis aspirations.

Caught in the middle of the musically challenged Brits were our Swiss friends, Sonja & Josef, brother Jakob and sister in law Cile. They took it in their stride, having travelled across Africa they are used to spontaneous native ceremonies. Despite the club rallies, which incidentally seem to be an exclusively British phenomenon, the majority of Snowbirds here at Marjal are independent travellers enjoying the warm climate.

Some go for the minimalist approach, a van and two chairs. They seem keen to re-create the garden they would love back home if only it was warm enough to ever sit out. Pagodas, twinkling lights, decorative Objets d'Art sculpted from two litre plastic water bottles (yes that is as nasty as it sounds) and enough bedding plants to make the Chelsea Flower Show seem understated. Perhaps the piece de resistance ("that's enough poncy French words thanks"….Ed) is a nearby pitch proudly displaying a concrete donkey, with planted side panniers no less, and an extensive gnome collection. I won't mention the nationality of this horticulturally challenged numb nut, but that's at least an extra 100 kilograms to lug down from Germany!

After two months of watching our fellow campers we have arrived at two definite observations. Firstly the smaller the van the bigger the dog(s) it carries. The record was a VW Campervan (possibly the smallest vehicle you can sleep in without your feet hanging out one end) containing three Afghan hounds, very cosy at night if a little smelly! Secondly the bigger the girth of the stomach above it, the smaller the Speedos or thong below it. This observation transcends nationality and one wonders what people aren't wearing behind the privacy of their windbreaks. Let's hope the current cold and wet weather forces them to keep their foibles fleeced!

We are leaving Marjal shortly, not just because we need to start heading back up to the UK for April but also because a human tsunami will hit this place at the end of the month. The rally of all rallies is arriving, the national gathering of the Spanish Autocaravanner Club. An anticipated 700-800 motorhomes are arriving for a ten day stay. Let's hope the ablution blocks are still standing when we return in the autumn!

Must go, one of the Funsters has apparently misplaced their dental plate. Hmmm I did think that last packet of crisps were a bit crunchy! Finally, thanks to Sonja, Josef, Cile and Jakob, for the great company and generous hospitality, see you in Switzerland. Thanks also to our British neighbours Mike and Sue, not least for proving that you can have fun without signing up to the Fun club.

Thanks as well to a totally mad Welshman, Harley and his long suffering wife Eileen, a hilarious couple. A big thanks to Jo for sending out our motorhome tax disc, which keeps us legal in Spain. Last but not least thanks to Dad for the Red Cross parcels and for arranging the repair of our nylon tent, victim of the nasty weather that hit here in February.