For the last few weeks I have thought of nothing else but sitting on this bed, of being in Peru, of being up those mountains and doing my best Julie Andrews impression as she swings her arms in the air and twirls in a beautifully carefree manner. It has kept me going, it’s given me something that is mine away from the family. That is what I have been yearning for and why I so desperately wanted to go away with my best mates. I pushed for us to be out here. Then, the night before I left, I sobbed as I packed my suitcase, causing Nick to have a little chuckle before pulling me in close. I think it was part relief that I was actually doing this and that we were leaving, but more than anything it was guilt that I could have something for me. Something that was my own. Something that I wanted besides my family.

Then the kids were distraught as I said goodbye to them. They gripped hold of me in a way that only children can. Right around the neck, pulling me in like little koalas, really doing their best to unknowingly rub in and embed that guilt I was already feeling. Nick had to pull Chloe off me and usher a sniffling Barnaby away from my taxi. With his hands full he was only able to briefly turn back with words of encouragement, the smile on his face unable to hide the fact he was trying to keep his emotions at bay, probably for the kids. ‘I’m so proud of you. Have the best time,’ he whispered in my ear before giving me a quick peck on the lips.

As tears threaten to fall again I realize that I need to get up and get out. I don’t want to sit here and wallow. This trip will be a total waste of time if I do that.

I get up and walk out of my hotel room, another simple act that feels so strange without other people to ferry and organize. I don’t even take a bag – I just pop my key and phone into my back pocket and exit quickly.

Even though I know I’ll be early I decide to head straight to the meeting room for our briefing. It’s one floor down in a little conference room, with a sign for ‘Gap Adventures’ placed outside to welcome me in. Glasses of red and white wine have been laid on the table; I happily grab a white and take a quick gulp.

‘Get it in now, there’ll be none on the trip,’ a voice with a Cornish lilt sounds from behind.

I turn to see a young man, maybe early twenties, smirking back at me. He sweeps his unruly mop of hair away from his bearded face before busying himself with paperwork and leaflets on the desk in front of him.