Saturday. 10.00 am. Box Hill.

The walking group had either gone on, or failed to get out of bed at all.

Seeing as I'd got up at dawn and Stix was keen, I followed the route to the pub-lunch stop, amazed at my orienteering skills.

When I asked around, no-one at the pub had heard of the walking group. Even the bar staff hadn't a clue what I was talking about.

Stuck at a pub in the middle of nowhere, with sore feet and a knackered dog, I was just about to hang up my walking boots when a tractor pulled up.

It was heading my way, so I jumped on and zoomed back to the station. I never knew walking could be so much fun.