I decide to walk the Te Araroa Trail.
By journey’s end, my stepson shone with self-assurance.
One occurrence in particular changed the course of my life. After a day of drizzling rain, we called a halt to slopping along in wet feet and made camp in a dripping beech wood.
Let us wind forward a year.
London is a distant if lustrous memory.
The truth is, we have all asked ourselves at some point, “How did I end up here?” We all have our stories and this is mine.
Frozen in the grip of paralysing fear, I am stuck, alone, a hundred metres up a near vertical mountain wall.