We slept in Cortijo Cuarto like proper logs. The kind that don't creak even in the wind. The place was new to us and turned out to be one of those places that embraces you without warning. Good ground. Good silence. Good sleep. I'm in.

We woke up to good weather and no rush. At our usual time, which you already know. The one that doesn't need an alarm clock. We set off for Miraflores Park, which isn't just any park for me. It's my park. Where I grew up. Where I learned to be a dog with judgment and to distinguish between interesting humans and humans with sandwiches.

The reason was practical and not very romantic. Washing machine. At the petrol station next door. Papi Edu put the bedding in to spin because a major change was due. We were going from a single bed to a double bed. I didn't say anything, but inwardly I clapped my ears. More bed is always better bed.

While the machine went round and round, we ate in the camper. It was Sunday and the weather was good, so the car park was lively. Too lively at times. Some children appeared with petrol bikes that made a noise capable of scaring away deep thoughts and even educated pigeons. Probably presents from the Three Wise Men. I still don't understand why young humans are given noise as a gift, but we survived.

With the clothes clean, folded and stored like responsible adults, we packed everything up and went to Seville airport. We waited in the departure area, which is where our camper doesn't lose its head. And there appeared Tito Joan. Instant joy. Tail wagging. Family reunited again.

We went to Seville East and met up with a good group of friends. Tita Mariola, with whom we shared Ireland, her partner Miguel and more human acquaintances. Beers, soft drinks, cross-talk and me moving between legs like a fish in water... or a dog on a terrace, which is more accurate.

When it started to cool down, we packed up and went back to the car. We, that is, Papi Edu, Tito Joan and I, headed for Castilleja de Guzmán. This time we avoided the motorhome parking and went down a dirt track to a more natural place, with the same views of Seville but more silence.

The place is beautiful and quiet, although with that inelegant human problem of leaving rubbish where it doesn't belong. Condoms, tissues, mattresses and the remains of misunderstood civilisation. A shame. Even so, the place has peace. And peace weighs more.

So we closed the day as it should be. Camper still. Distant views. Body tired in a good way. And me, curled up, thinking that there are days that need no further explanation. Just a good place to sleep and people nearby.