Amendment to my last post: the coldest I have ever been in my life was not while I was canyoning in the Swiss Alps, but rather approximately 15 minutes after that, when I discovered the base shelter showers had no hot water.

My feet were frozen stiff and I literally could not bend them at all, and in those flimsy little wetsuit booties every tiny pebble I’d stepped on (which was a lot, given that I’d been walking through a river bed) opened up new worlds of pain.

Naturally, though, all four of had fallen instantly in love with our guides (you know these rugged extreme sports types!) but of course no-one really looks at their most attractive with blue lips and snot all over their faces.

In one part of the canyon a waterfall came down into a narrow opening between two cliffs into a small pool that can’t have been more than three feet deep, but was called the ‘washing machine’ because the waters were churning and swirling around so much it was impossible to stay on your feet. We had to cross through this one by one, and one by one every one of us inevitably lost our footing and started thrashing around wildly in sheer panic, which, when it’s happening to someone else, is absolutely the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, but when it happens to you all you can think about is the fact that someone will have to tell your parents you managed to drown in three feet of water…

…meanwhile the guides, who somehow always manage to stay on their feet, are pissing themselves laughing at your ineptitude for a good couple of minutes before they finally show mercy, pluck you out with one hand and set you on your way again.

Never in my life have I needed a cup of tea and a hot shower so badly.