‘Okay. Great. Well. At least we’ve found the forest,’ I said, muttering words of meaningless reassurance as I rummaged for the raincoat in the bottom of my bag and, once Nesbit was back in the sling, slipped it on and zipped it up so he was safely inside, just the brown tip of a nose poking out.

It was relatively easy once I’d spotted the river to follow it up to the vast blob of dark green that had to be Bigley Forest Park. The problem was, I had a huge stretch of lighter green, brown and yellow fields to cross before I reached it, and I wasn’t sure which part of the darker green I needed to aim for to get back on the right path. Plus, reading a sopping wet map with the rain dripping in my eyes and somehow up my nose, a dog shivering in terror against my chest while trying to avoid being struck by lightning was not an easy task.

In the end, I decided that getting under the shelter of the trees was more pressing than working out which trees I needed to be under. I took a deep breath, straightened my rucksack and gritted my teeth. So things hadn’t all been sunshine and a smooth road. What kind of a challenge would that be? There was no way I was quitting now. Or crying. Or finding a bush to crawl under.

We were marching on to the end.

I might eat my emergency chocolate flapjack while I marched, though.

17

A cold, wet, limping hour later, I reached the treeline, beyond thankful that no farmer had accosted me with his gun when I’d been forced to abandon the footpath yet again and trudge guiltily along what I feared must be private land.

The rain had stopped after only twenty minutes or so, although my shivering bones couldn’t tell. I realised now why all the kit lists said to bring a woolly hat, even if it was twenty-one degrees when we’d set off. I was also bursting for a wee, thanks to the idiotic second bottle of cider. That proved to be a whole different side of adventuring – squatting behind a dripping wet tree, non-twisted ankle sinking into the mud as I tried to avoid bearing weight on the other one, gripping a slippery dog lead as the last thing I needed was for Nesbit to make a break for freedom while my knickers hung around my knees.

I had a glimmer of phone signal now the storm had cleared, so was able to locate my position. Forgetting the path now that we were in the park boundary, I simply headed in the direction of the place I’d chosen for my idyllic overnight camp, and hobbled on.