Iceland, June 2017. Tents.

As I sat in the tent, listening to the rustling of leaves and the infrequent gusts of wind around me, I felt despondent.

The two Matthews and Craig had gone for supplies. I was left alone, with my swollen and throbbing right knee. I had been given a large bottle of rum for the pain, which I gratefully took a swig of. I had bought it at Gatwick for around a quarter of what the equivalent cost in Iceland (twenty five pounds a pint? Madness!) and it was by now half empty.

I felt despondent, but not just because of my knee.

I was fast approaching 30. I felt like so many milestones had gone unfulfilled. Friends and family alike were getting engaged, married, having kids, mortgages and the like an...

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