I was visiting a friend who was house-sitting a chateau. I showed him the boot of our car. Everything in the vast chateau was replicated in the boot of the small car. The tent was our home, the tiny gas burner was our kitchen, the sleeping bags and fold away plastic table our furniture. But it was enough.

Later that evening we camped by a small river. I swam in it. There is something so soothing about swimming in a natural river. Elsewhere in the campsite, people lay stretched out on plastic sun lounges in the blazing heat under faux palms beside the aquamarine, chlorinated water. Here, in the quiet river, the rocks lining the banks were like a Japanese garden and hanging trees overshadowed the water. The river was so clear that you could see a myriad of tiny fishes catching the light at the bottom. This was as good as any church service.