Sleeping in England is quite an art... that we still haven't mastered. The place seemed quiet, but neither Dad Edu nor I closed an eye. He, I think, got confused with driving on the left and tried to sleep with his head at his feet. And I, in total sentry mode, because we still didn't know if we could sleep there legally. What if a fine, what if a tow truck, what if a squadron of royal bulldogs... Anyway, between the worry and an intrusive crow that came to inspect the roof at dawn, the night was anything but restful.

At eight o'clock we were already half awake, more out of resignation than desire. The other van had left at five, as if it had a date with the queen or something. We started calmly, there's no rush when your house has wheels.

The first hour driving was like getting into a horror movie of killer bushes: roads so narrow that if I stuck out my tongue I would brush it with the branches. Dad Edu was complaining, not so much about driving on the left, but because between potholes, puzzle roundabouts and tiny exits, driving here is not exactly a pleasure. So we switched to the motorways, which at least are wider, although not exactly to write home about.

Around one o'clock, already hungry and with a Friday afternoon face, we stopped in a very nice place next to the road, with a little forest next door. Perfect for walking and doing my business. We ate calmly, took a walk in the forest (beautiful, with the smell of rabbits, but no rabbits) and then… surprise: another while in the car.

In the middle of returning to the road, Dad Edu forgot for a second that here the cars come from the wrong side and we had to make a quick maneuver. Everything under control, of course, but I think the imaginary coffee went to his head. Because that's what it was: he hadn't had his coffee yet. And that, friends, is like driving without wheels. So as soon as he saw a rest area, we stopped. There were ruins of what must have been a cafeteria (or an ancient coffee temple) and Dad made his emergency coffee in the camper. Sacred moment.

With the caffeine taking effect and me already half surrendered in bed, we kept going until we stopped in an area next to a national road. Not bad the place: wheat field, movie sunset, and me starting the afternoon with my ball. There I was, happy with my toy, when a car that looked like road maintenance appeared. Dad tenses up. Are they going to kick us out? Are they going to fine us? Are they going to confiscate the ball? Well no. It turns out that the two men just wanted to see our camper and ask a thousand questions: whether we had made it ourselves, whether it was comfortable, how fast it goes, whether it has air conditioning for elegant dogs... Very nice.

And not only that: they invited us to visit the horse racing track in York and also a horse fair. So now we are in a parking lot with sleeping trucks, golden views and a plan for tomorrow. The place is a bit noisy, because it's next to the road, but nothing that my champion snore can't cover.

Let's see if tonight we both sleep the right way.