The first thing that struck us as soon as we crossed the Danube was what a beautiful country Bulgaria is. With densely wooded mountains fading into the distance, it wins the prize for the most spectacular scenery so far. It also wins the prize for the worst roads, which make our pot-holed lane in Potterton look like the M25. 

We had a biblical electrical storm during the decent into Sofia. With the rain and standing water, the teal-mobile was practically surfing in. 

There were very few campsites in the Bulgarian capital, so we headed to a site, 20km outside Sofia, which had been described as convenient for public transport. Reader, they lied. It was in the middle of nowhere, and wasn’t convenient for anything but the river! To be fair, it was a very pretty spot and could have been great later in the season. But when we pulled up, it was muddy, dark and there was thick, low cloud lying in the valley. It felt like we were in a horror film or The League of Gentlemen, not helped by the assorted junk scattered around the site, the amusing reception area and the hordes of howling dogs.

On the positive side the owner was lovely, the hook-ups worked and the loos were, umm, present. It was one of those cross-your-legs-and-hope-for-the-best kind of nights. 

We were still shrouded in fog in the morning and I was on Hotels.com booking a hotel in Sofia before the kettle boiled! For the spreadsheet watchers out there, Mr G informs me that the £70 hotel bill ( an absolute bargain) can be categorised as an expensive campsite, because we’re under budget in that column. I’m not sure that’s quite in the spirit of this road trip, but as I snuggle into the snowy white duvet, I’m not sure I care!