When we finally ascend to the pinnacle of the peak my soul soars and I feel as if I can see the whole world from here. The rocky crags and the soft, verdant curves of the Lake District are spread out before us – and the beauty of it brings a tear to my eye.

I hug Greg fiercely. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Thank you so much.’

We’re both flushed, unaccustomed as we are to such exercise and I haven’t felt this alive in years. The blood is zinging in my veins and, although I could do with a lung transplant and my poor muscles are wondering quite what’s hit them, I’m feeling fan-flipping-tastic!

I throw my arms wide and breathe in the sharp air. ‘Imagine what the Andes will be like compared to this. I can’t wait!’

Looking at my husband, I see that his face has darkened. My arms drop to my sides.

‘What?’

‘I hoped,’ Greg says tightly, ‘that by showing you this –’ he makes an angry little dismissive wave at the stunning landscape of the Lake District – ‘you’d realise that you can have adventure in this country. There’s no need to pursue some harebrained scheme to go to the other side of the world with kids half your age to prove yourself.’

I’m open-mouthed. ‘Is that what this is about?’ I say when I eventually regain the power of speech. ‘To try and show me that I’m an idiot to dream?’

Greg, jaw set, stares out from the summit.

‘I thought you’d done it to help with my training,’ I tell him. ‘To encourage me.’

‘You don’t seem to need any encouragement,’ he spits out. My husband looks hurt, confused and more than a little angry. ‘It’s quite obvious you’ve got your mind set on it.’

‘I have,’ I say. ‘I’m going to Peru. I’m going to do the Inca Trail. I’d like it even better if it was something we could do together. But it’s quite obvious that you’ve got your mind set on remaining a boring old fart for the rest of your life.’

‘Go,’ Greg says. ‘Go on your own.’

Hands on hips. ‘I will.’

My husband shakes his head sadly. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you recently, Annie. But I don’t understand it.’

And, with that, he stomps off down the mountain, leaving me behind.

I sit, stunned, and pull out my sandwiches. I’m aghast at Greg’s reaction – as he clearly is at mine. All I want to do is go on a small adventure. I’m not declaring that I intend to sail the world single-handedly. I’ve not announced a major lifestyle upheaval such as moving a long-term toy-boy lover into the marital home. I haven’t suddenly broken the news that I’m carrying George Clooney’s love-child.