Attention, listening humans and curious dogs! Today started as the best dreams do: without noticing anything.

Last night, two campervans parked next to us, in our private field, and we didn't even smell the noise. That means two things: one, the place was quieter than a snail at a spa; two, Daddy and I slept like logs, anaesthetised. When we opened our eyes it was almost snack time.

We left late, without haste or shame. First mission: Intermarché. While Daddy was buying provisions, I stayed on my throne on wheels, sharpening my sense of smell in case some cheese, ham or something ending up in my mouth "by accident" fell into a bag.

Then the road. But be warned: without a destination. Daddy's brain was in "blank map" mode. After a while we parked in a rest area, because thinking when hungry is like trying to do yoga in a puddle. We ate in the camper, each with our own technique: he with cutlery, I with my tongue and a crumb-destroying gaze.

Then came the silent drama: and now what? Daddy Edu tried to make a plan for the next few days, but his head ran away every time the word "museum" came up. Yesterday he soaked up so much history of the Second World War that if you show him another bunker he'll get emotional hives. Besides, we explored this whole coast three years ago: Normandy, Brittany, rocks, lighthouses, cows, crazy tides... all seen and smelled.

Solution: imaginary compass looking south. Daddy started the engine and we went down as if we were following the smell of fuet. We did more than a hundred kilometres, some on toll-free motorways, because paying for the road isn't our sport. It was almost seven o'clock when the camping dog instinct said: "find a nest".

And we found it: Vernix. A town so small that if three people cough they already have an assembly. About 150 inhabitants and probably more chickens than humans. We parked in an area with picnic tables, green everywhere and that silence that is a pleasure to chew on.

We were alone, happy, owners of the field... until later a small van arrived. It smelled like "I'm staying to sleep and I won't bother anyone", so welcome. I already inspected every blade of grass and marked territory with liquid signature.

Today there were no historic beaches, no bunkers, no museums with giant aeroplanes. Just rest, shopping, the road and a worthy end for a doggy zen retreat. If tomorrow Daddy still has no plan, I'll organise one for him: south, nap and sausage. What more could you ask for?