Eventually the Imodium started doing its thing and the loo trips lessened. After downing some Dioralyte, something that always reminds me of being a kid and being handed one by my mum, I managed to close my eyes and drift off.

Mike and Zaza told me sleep would make me feel better, and they weren’t lying. Waking up I feel completely different to how I did last night.

‘You good?’ Zaza asks.

I turn to see her staring at me, her eyebrows nestled into a concerned frown, and have a faint recollection of her tip-toeing in last night. She might’ve even checked up on me.

‘I honestly thought I might die at one point,’ I say with a croak, wrapping the sleeping bag around me even tighter. ‘In contrast, I feel a million dollars now.’

‘Just a shame you don’t look it.’

‘Bitch,’ I laugh, taking my crappy blow-up pillow and chucking it in her direction. She’s laughing so much she doesn’t manage to bat it away.

‘I feel like I’m missing out,’ shouts Mike from his own tent.

‘You’re not. It smells like a rat’s arse in here,’ calls back Zaza.

‘Oi!’ I shout before laughing and grimacing all at once. ‘I really didn’t want to get the squits in the mountains.’

‘Still beat running around after the kids all day?’ she asks.

‘I’m not sure it does,’ I say, a sudden pang of missing them hitting me, causing me to bury my face.

‘Oh no, I’m sorry!’ she cries. ‘Wait, I’m coming over.’

I look up and through my watery eyes see her rolling over to me in her sleeping bag. Even though the sight of it makes me want to laugh I can’t help the fresh tears that are now a mixture of emotions.

‘Have you made her cry?’ Mike asks, popping his head through our door.

‘I didn’t sodding mean to!’ Zaza calls, finally stopping next to me and extending an arm out to wrap around me. ‘Not this early anyway!’

‘Room for me?’ Mike calls, hopping in, he too still in his sleeping bag. He makes quite the commotion as he hunches over and bounces through the tent, finally landing the other side of my sleeping bag. Another arm is draped across me.

A sigh escapes me.

‘I wanted this trip to be perfect,’ I share, staring at the roof of our tent that’s covered in condensation.

‘No such thing,’ says Zaza.

‘You’re learning,’ says Mike across me.

‘I just … it’s not just the fact I’ve had the squits either,’ I admit.

‘Go on,’ says Mike, his arm holding me firmer.