‘Yeah,’ Scott shoots back before nodding and stepping out of the way to allow a local farmer to walk past before looking back to ensure the rest of us do the same. ‘I didn’t really pick that up,’ he says, walking again. ‘I knew something was on your mind and taking you elsewhere. Kids though, that’s a big one.’

‘Yeah …’ That’s the understatement of the century, I think, before we fall back into silence.

‘Remember guys,’ Scott calls out as he walks. ‘Keep drinking. Even if you feel like you don’t need it – little sips every so often.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Zaza giggles before going back to the chat.

‘What did you do before you were a mum?’ Scott asks after a while.

‘I was a TV producer,’ I say, a familiar feeling of pride washing over me.

‘No way. What kind of shows did you work on?’

‘Daytime,’ I say, enjoying his surprise.

‘News based?’ he asks.

‘No!’ I laugh, thinking of the more formal content that would land on other channels while we were creating a mash-up of being informative with a light touch while also bringing in the ridiculous – like when we got our main presenter to celebrate the start of spring by doing the whole show from the middle of a working farm. There’s a reason they say don’t work with animals, but it was cracking for live TV. Especially when one of the goats tried to eat the presenter’s skirt, causing quite the panic – she was fine after brief hysterics. So was the goat. ‘I tried my best to make a bit of telly that would leave people laughing and feeling good. Although sometimes we’d flip that on its head and create something that informed viewers about something they might’ve previously thought was a little scary,’ I say.

‘Like what?’

‘Bowel cancer,’ I reply without skipping a beat. ‘Turns out lots of fun can be had when talking about poo and it can save lives too.’

‘All while people are eating their breakfast.’

‘Exactly,’ I say, nodding at myself with a sense of achievement because it’s not like he can see me as we walk.

‘And what was it like to walk away from that?’ he prods.