Well a few of us managed to stay up until the end of the football. Alas the breast feeding restaurant was shut so we made do with Robins tv at the van. Robin joined us for the first half, snoring loudly. Like having Darth Vader in amongst us. We packed him off to bed at half time.
I was on loan to Team Mobile Brothel for the day as we had a slightly concerning 418 mile trip ahead of us. I breathalysed myself. Clear ! I think I had been too tired to drink much beer the previous night.
Northern Germany, if I'm going to be honest, on the whole is a little dull. Well, if you stick to the Autobahns it is. We found ourselves in Neumunster for lunch. The Pratt nav found us a pretty little restaurant. Ok, it found us a pizza and kebab shop in a housing estate. We were joined by teams 7 and 8.
Our inferno pizza arrived and I shared it out and started eating. Marc burst in to tears. I couldn't work out what was wrong with him, the pizza seemed fine..... Then it hit me like a brick wrapped in stinging nettles. Jesus, that was evil. I snivelled my way to the toilets with my nose leaking like Jezebel's sump.
Back at the table, Clare was being the guinea pig to work out which part of the pizza topping was the offending one. She found it eventually. Her skin changed colour, her face crumpled and she spoke like she had just had some root canal work.
50km from the Danish border, Marc spotted two uniforms in an unmarked BMW. Apparently they pulled out on to the road as soon as we had gone past. The Feds were on our tail. Marc tried his best to be anonymous, to blend in with the local traffic. In a luminous pink 30 year old van, it's an art. Somehow the uniforms tracked us down and we were pulled over in a service area. They spoke English, that was a relief. They asked some difficult questions though. "Where are you going ?". Marc and Clare didn't really know. I knew, but couldn't tell them as it's a secret.
"Two beds. There are three of you ?" Oh God...that's a tough one to explain in pidgin English. I nearly told him that I intended to sleep with my son in a different van but stopped myself as I didn't want to sound like a pervert.
The two customs officers (as we had now discovered) checked around the interior of the Brothel. They tactfully didn't mention the blacked out curtains, the dodgy looking black bed linen or the bottle of warm urine that Marc had left after being caught short in a traffic jam. They left hurriedly without shaking our hands.
Onward to Hobro. The Brothel sauntered in last, as expected. Team Olly had made full use of the pool already.
Hobro lies on the banks of a fjord. A field of calves were in the neighbouring field with chains around their necks. I'm led to believe their bells grow as they get older. All very picturesque after mile upon mile of monotonous Autobahns.
The secret of the mysterious ferry had been guessed. I think the paperwork about Norwegian customs regulations I dished out might have been a clue.
So, Valle in Norway is the next destination. An early start to make the 9-30 ferry. Have to be there 90 minutes before and it's a 70 mile drive to get there. 
The trip at the other end looks interesting. 130 miles but expected to take 3 1/2 hours. That's not a motorway then.
Onward !
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