The first of (possibly) several hiccoughs

Off we set into the sunrise, the Camargue being our first port of call. I think I've said it before but it can be ornithologically brilliant or rubbish but seldom in between. Sadly today was one of the latter days.
No worries, off to stay with old friends who were flying in to their house in Bizes today. At least they were meant to be until Ryanair cancelled all flights from Stansted leaving them firmly placed in Crowthorne and us, homeless in the south of France.
Hurried Airbnb consultation soon found us a bed in Collioure and we were reminded what a pretty (and popular) spot it was. To continue our hiccoughs we contrived to lose the key to our flat and that caused general consternation.
The final blow was the Nightingale that seemed to be living - and singing - in our room all night. The residents of Berkeley Square are well clear of them imho.