Our pitch under the mountains in Camping El Quinto.

Back to the simple life. Up and breakfast, and time to move on. We drove through the curious, messy hills of the Almeria coast towards Mojacar, and arrived at Camping El Quinto, just below the town of Mojacar (which is on a hill, of course), at about 1pm.

Campsite is small and cheerful, lots of friendly retirees in motorhomes, mainly British with a smattering of German. Site is gravel-floored, low trees and shrubs, well maintained, and with the mountainous backdrop of the type that we are fond of.

To save our typical "let's keep moving on in search of nirvana" attitude to camping, I paid for the full five nights in one go. We're here now.

Weather is the best you can get at this time of year: Sunny, and very warm when you're in the sun and sheltered from the wind. As soon as the sun goes in, you're in the shade, or it's morning/evening, it's definitely chilly! We spent the afternoon enjoying the weather, reading, chilling, and - me - listening to Man U getting a 5-0 thumping from Liverpool at Old Trafford. (It really is time OGS jogged on...)

I cooked us a paella for lunch, then upon discovering the campsite had absolutely no bar, cafe or shop (for the price it ought to have something) I ended up cooking again for supper, a pasta bolognese-type affair. Still no chocolate/sweets/treats, so we dug into apple (Dylan and me), dates (Faye) and dried granola (Maya) afterwards, before turning in.