Baguettes, Bed Repairs & Bronze Age Rocks: Our Wild Weekend in Plussulien
Ah, Plussulien. The name alone sounds like a fancy cheese or perhaps a spell from Harry Potter. But no—this charming commune in the heart of Brittany is neither dairy nor wizardry. It’s a place where history, hilarity, and haphazard DIY collide in one unforgettable weekend. We stopped here to visit some dear friends and old neighbours who’ve traded British drizzle for French sunshine, and what began as a friendly catch-up quickly spiralled into a whirlwind of cycling, engineering, and expat revelry.
Welcome to Plussulien: Population 507, Chaos Level 100
Nestled in the Côtes-d’Armor department of northwestern France, Plussulien is the kind of place where cows outnumber people and the local gossip travels faster than Wi-Fi. With a population of just over 500, it’s the perfect setting for a weekend of cultural immersion, questionable carpentry, and expat revelry.
Historically, Plussulien is no slouch. It’s home to the archaeological site of Quelfénnec, a Neolithic quarry that once supplied dolerite for tools and monuments. Basically, ancient people were already doing DIY here long before we tried to fix a campervan bed with a butter knife and blind optimism.
The Monolith of Saint-Mayeux: Rocks That Rock
Our adventure began with a cycle ride to Saint-Mayeux, a nearby village that boasts a 2.7-meter-tall menhir—a standing stone from the Neolithic era. This monolith, known as the Menhir du Bourg, is made of rough schist and stands proudly in amongst a cluster of trees like a prehistoric Instagram influencer.
We stared at it in awe, wondering how ancient humans managed to erect such a beast without the help of YouTube tutorials or Allen keys. Then we took selfies, because obviously.
The SAS Memorial: Parachutes and Patriotism
Next stop: the wartime memorial dedicated to three brave SAS paratroopers who were dropped into the region during WWII. It’s a sobering site that honours their courage and sacrifice. Standing there, we felt a deep sense of respect—and also a bit guilty about how much cheese we’d eaten that morning.
The memorial is a poignant reminder that Plussulien isn’t just quaint—it’s quietly heroic.
The Campervan Bed Repair: Engineering Meets Improvisation
Back at our mobile HQ (aka the campervan) we discovered that the bed had decided to go rogue. One of the runners had shifted, turning our cosy sleeping nook into a lopsided hammock of doom.
Cue the emergency repair operation: armed with a spoon, duct tape, and the kind of determination usually reserved for Olympic athletes, we embarked on a mission to restore structural integrity. After 45 minutes of intense swearing, interpretive hammering, and one moment where we genuinely considered sleeping in the front seats, the bed was restored to semi-functionality. We celebrated with coffee and a vow to never roll over too enthusiastically. That was until…
Fuzzy the Fixer: Patron Saint of Campervan Engineering
Every great adventure needs a hero. Ours came in the form of Fuzzy — a man whose beard could write its own memoir and whose machine shop is the stuff of legend. When our campervan bed decided to impersonate a seesaw, most people would’ve reached for a wrench. Fuzzy reached for destiny.
With the calm precision of someone who’s probably rebuilt a tractor for fun, he surveyed the damage and muttered the sacred words: “I’ll turn some parts.” What followed was a symphony of metal, oil, and wizardry. In his engineering lair—part workshop, part shrine to mechanical excellence—Fuzzy spun up custom brackets on a lathe like he was crafting jewellery for a robot king.
The result? A bed so secure it could survive a minor earthquake, a toddler tantrum, or a particularly aggressive game of Twister (Ahem). Fuzzy didn’t just fix the bed. He elevated it. He engineered it. And somewhere deep in the campervan’s frame, you can still hear the faint hum of his handiwork whispering, “You’re welcome.”
Expat Parties: Champagne, Camembert, and Confessions
The weekend wouldn’t be complete without not one, but two parties with our friends, previous neighbour and the local expat crowd. These soirées were a delightful mix of British banter, French finger food, and stories that got increasingly scandalous as the wine flowed.
Highlights included:
- A heated debate about the best cheese to smuggle through customs.
- The best motorcycling routes around the Britany costline.
- Someone mistaking the monolith for a barbecue grill. (It wasn’t.)
Final Thoughts: Plussulien, You Weird and Wonderful Gem
Between ancient stones, wartime heroes, collapsing campervan furniture, and expat shenanigans, Plussulien gave us a weekend we’ll never forget—and a few bites (of the insect type).
Should you find yourself pedalling through Brittany with a toolkit in tow and a craving for quirky escapades, steer your wheels toward Plussulien. Just be gentle with the campervan bed—it’s seen things.
Comments
Gabrielle
Another joyous read! I know exactly what its like when the eyebrows do not stop the persistent flow of sweat on the forehead!! Its brutal!
And as for the rave and the broken bed? Well, sometimes, its bad to have an imagination!!!
And everyone needs a 'Fuzzy' in their lives! Albeit even if it is only a transient moment in time?
Travel safe Lovelies! And keep the stories comingxxxx
Karen
Jeff and I are just loving your travel tales and escapades - from raves to reunions and cheese and pastry delights. ☺️
Please keep the updates coming - they are a delight and an addictive travelogue.
Just one thought - does Fuzzy know he is now immortalised? Patron saint of camper van beds. 😂
Happy adventures
Karen xxxxx
Kathleen Fusellier
It was a fantastique catchup with you both! Pleased hubby was « monsieur can he fix it - oui he can » 🤣
safe onward travels, keep the journal going great read xxx
Kevin
Eyebrows: those decorative little face caterpillars that promise protection but fold under pressure. Nature’s cruel joke when your face turns into a slip-n-slide and your brows just clock out early. Honestly, I’ve started judging movie characters who wipe their brow with the back of their hand like it’s some elegant solution.
And yes, the rave-bed combo? My imagination saw that scene, screamed, and immediately booked a silent retreat in the Alps. As for ‘Fuzzy’—we all need one, even if they vanish faster than socks in a tumble dryer.
Thanks for sticking with us through the eyebrow floods, bed frame fiascos, and rogue imagination detours. Your comment made someone laugh-snort in public, which is the highest compliment I can give.
Kevin
Oh Jeff and Co., you’ve officially made my day-and possibly Fuzzy’s. I read your comment and immediately imagined Fuzzy in a halo of crumbs and disco lights, graciously accepting his sainthood with a solemn nod and a squeaky mattress hymn. Thanks for being part of the chaos, the carbs, and the questionable "tales from the campervan". More tales are brewing—somewhere between a rave and a raclette. Stay tuned, stay fabulous, and may your eyebrows always hold the line.
Kevin
Fantastique catchup indeed. I hope “Monsieur Can-He-Fix-It” is leaning into his new role with quiet confidence—there’s a certain air of triumph around the toolbox lately, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a theme tune starts playing every time he walks past the van.
Thanks for the kind words and travel love—this journal’s becoming less of a blog and more of a soap opera with snacks. Stay tuned for more tales of pastry-fuelled adventures, questionable "tales from the campervan", and camper van miracles. Sending love, crumbs, and a toolbox full of gratitude!
