It is vaguely interesting, but the pair just don’t stop yapping even when someone isn’t asking them questions. Even though they’ve spent the best part of six months together they still have a million things to talk about. Clearly. I have to resist the urge to grumpily yell at them to shut up. We don’t all want to know what’s been going on in Billy Buskin’s private life – even though it is wonderful to know he’s going to be a dad.

I remember being young and feeling like life was too short to be quiet, that silence wasn’t something to grab hold of but rather shirk against. I remember having to vocalize every single thought that entered my head even if it was banal and completely and utterly boring.

As we turn a corner we’re greeted by another incredible view, pulling my focus from my grizzly hangover and the girls who aren’t doing anything to specifically annoy me personally but are just the same, reminding me to make the most of this trip I’m on and what it might teach me. Which is hopefully more than the fact I’m just a truly grouchy sod who can no longer handle the morning after a night out – which wasn’t even a night out-out.

I pull my phone from my orange Oliver Bonas rucksack (which is not my main hiking bag but my everyday travel one – even I know fashion must be sacrificed when scrambling along valleys) and go to take a photo of the cascading hills surrounding us. I’m greeted with a message from Albie.

Your desk is looking so sad today! Dare I say it, the office isn’t the same without you. Might have to order a life-size Zaza cutout. Can’t guarantee it’ll stay in the office though.

The side of my mouth curls into a smile. I can’t help it. Then I think of Liam and reprimand myself. It might be harmless and innocent flirting but Liam would be crushed if he saw our exchanges.

‘Albie is a cute name,’ Vicky says, cutting into my thoughts with a shock. ‘We almost went for Albert for Barnaby. That or Herbert. Albie or Herbie. Cute names.’

‘Barnaby is such a Barnaby, couldn’t imagine him being anything else,’ I say, holding the phone back against my chest.

‘I know what you mean. They grow into their names or their names are such a huge part of who they are they can’t possibly be anything other than that,’ she sighs, her eyes softening at the thought of her kids. ‘And my Barnaby is so fricking cute.’

‘You OK?’ I ask, holding on to her forearm.