There are mornings when Daddy Edu fancies himself an Olympic athlete of early rising. Today he even set an alarm clock, something we never do unless it's an emergency like "the cheese is running out" or "we have to flee a tractor". But only half an hour earlier than usual, don't think we joined the legion or anything. According to him, you have to "optimise the days because it gets dark earlier". According to me, there was plenty of room for another little nap. But hey, we left at eleven instead of midday and Daddy was incredibly proud, as if he'd climbed Everest in flip-flops.

After the touristy thrashing of the previous day, today was a light day. Fifteen minutes in the car and we arrived in Aurillac. We parked in front of Decathlon and, as always when there's a smell of new clothes and trembling credit cards, I stayed in the car. Daddy went in and came out happy as a puppy with a new ball: two t-shirts and some shoes. I was expecting treats, but it seems they don't sell bones in the mountain section.

Next stop: E. Leclerc supermarket. We repeated the play. Me in the car, him filling bags as if a spaghetti and toilet paper war was coming. He came out with so much that I thought they were going to have to leave me tied up outside to make room. In the camper we set up the famous Tetris of supplies: tins here, tomatoes there, crushed bread in a mysterious hole... and me supervising everything from my bed like a senior foreman.

My stomach and his were already rumbling, so we drove fifteen minutes south and parked in a picnic area. Daddy cooked, ate and rearranged half the supermarket inside the cupboards as if he were training for the Olympic Games of order. I did my thing: staring intently at his plate, in case something interesting gravitationally fell.

After the break, we set off and drove about thirty kilometres to Conques-en-Rouergue. But we didn't enter the village, because Daddy had found a secret meadow next to the Lot river on Park4Night. And that's when I said: wow, wow and super wow!

The Lot river is one of those that looks like it's painted with a fine brush: calm, wide, with reflections that tickle the eyes. It smells of wet grass, old leaves and unhurried adventure. The place was hidden among trees, with a soft meadow that invites you to lie on your back and dream of impossible squirrels.

The sun was warming just enough, neither frying nor chilly. Daddy decided that the plan for the rest of the day consisted of: nothing. But good nothing: reading, napping, watching the river and letting me sniff every blade of grass as if I were looking for solid gold.

Between short car rides, shopping without me and a relaxed landing in this postcard meadow, today there were no epic sunsets or mountains climbed. But I tell you one thing with my tongue out and my tail proud: sometimes, a river and a nap are better than a thousand viewpoints.

And here we are staying to sleep, with the ducks as neighbours and the Lot whispering stories that I don't understand, but I like them anyway.