I blame the wine. There must have been vats of it. Otherwise what can be the possible explanation for me agreeing to fly ten thousand miles across the world to spend several weeks cooped up with my husband, Jim Maxwell and Head of Entertainment, Mark (Jonathan’s flying instructor from home; so the most important man on the trip) in what a a baked beans can. Jonathan has promised sunshine, which is hugely appealing given the torrential rain currently battering Leicestershire. “It will be an adventure “ he said. Is that what he calls sleeping in a dormitory for 8 with me the only woman? “You won’t need anything smart, it’s very casual”: this to a woman who thinks travelling light is when I go away for a weekend with 2 suitcases. “Just pick up your passport, turn the heating off, lock up the house and get on the plane”.

He has apparently forgotten we have two mad Spaniels, Bumble and Woody, to pack off to boarding school and an elderly cat. There are copious instructions to be left for my army of friends and family who will be holding the fort. And let’s not even mention the C 🎄 word. I am writing this at 42 thousand feet above the ocean, en route to Perth.

The bad news is the cricket ended disappointingly early; the plus side of that is Jonathan will be there to meet me at the airport. Who’s taking bets on the first row? A quick shower and scrub up and “Captain Cockpit” and I - along with other supporters of the fantastic Angel Flight Charity - will be taking to the air on our Ashes Adventure. I hope you follow us, warts and all, over the coming weeks.