In the world of “reality” travel documentaries, there will always be an element of Jeopardy, so as to heighten tension and to raise the levels of excitement. The journey ahead can never be entirely straightforward, or else the spectacle may just become boring.

Which brings us to our “Trial Run”, an opportunity to test the equipment, to practise the procedures and to find out if the humans were equal to the task. Our destination was a new campsite on a sweeping 40 acre estate in the heart of deepest Herefordshire, which happens to be run by Willow’s sister Anna and her husband Hugh. A perfect spot to dabble gently in the business of raising camp in a tranquil and supportive environment. A calm and soothing dress rehearsal. In addition to Anna and Hugh, Fi and Gwill had come along to join in the fun.

However, we hadn’t reckoned with the precursor of the amusingly named Storm Dave, in the form of  a raging gale force wind. Nothing was easy. Battling the elements, we managed to raise the tent. But only for a few seconds before an absolutely vicious gust of wind ripped the tent from its moorings. A guy rope that Willow was holding was wrenched from her hand, leaving her bloodied and shocked. The tent was recovered before it flew off down the hill, but close inspection revealed that an essential strut in the structure of the tent had been snapped cleanly in two.

This was a desperately disheartening moment. Suddenly, camping had become a losing battle against the sheer power of Nature. And our plans seemed in disarray. The tent was broken.

Help was quickly at hand. Hugh, the resourceful and dashing pilot that he is was able to come up with a temporary fix featuring something called a Gee Clamp ( maybe American in origin? ). We were then able to raise and secure the tent by turning it around so that it faced away from the prevailing wind, thus correcting our initial mistake. But the tent continued to flap and groan in the teeth of the wind, whilst setting up camp with chairs and table and stove and everything else was something of a cold ordeal. In the circumstances , my slightly sinister brown leather driving gloves became my prized possession. It all seemed so much easier at the NEC.

After all the excitement, the assembled company enjoyed cups of tea and hot cross buns as we sat shivering in the freezing blast. Sensibly, the rest of the family returned to the sanctity of four walls, a solid roof and central heating, leaving us to our overnight fate.

Time for bed was viewed with some trepidation. Thermal undies were donned and hot water bottles filled. For me, the luxury sleeping bag/duvet proved to be cosy and warm, but the wind howling through the trees sounded like some roaring monster. The tent rattled and shook as the successive gusts tried again to send the tent and me soaring to some other world. Luckily, I stayed in Kansas. And at least it didn’t rain.

Next morning was chastening. We were both without our super-duper air mattresses, which frustratingly had still not been delivered. It had been an uncomfortable night, and my back was feeling the strain.The wind had dropped, but it was bitterly cold and a thin drizzle was making everything wet. The kettle wasn’t boiling. The stove was clearly not functioning at anywhere near an acceptable level. We packed Red hurriedly and without method.

Our journey home was contemplative and thoughtful. We had certainly learned several things, and we had managed to cope ( just about ) in adverse circumstances. Some illusions might have been shattered, yet perhaps we might be a little bit better prepared for whatever we may find on the road.