Snowdon is my favourite mountain in the UK. I don’t mean the best: that title goes to An Teallach, traversed on a long, sunny autumn day a few years back. But Yr Wyddfa (to give it its proper title) is the one I keep coming back to. It simply ticks so many of the right walking boxes.

I’d never really thought about exploring Hertfordshire. The phrase ‘Home Counties’ drums up images of commuter towns, golf courses and… well, not much else. So when my sister suggested a walk on Berkhamsted Common with her 5-month old son, my instant reaction was that I’d actually rather be out in the Lakes or the Dales on a crisp winter’s day.

As the years tick by, walking gets harder. Not in the physical sense, although the right knee is a bit stiff now and I do tend to reach the pub a bit earlier these days. No, the challenge is in finding the time to get out there. Walking was previously a spontaneous, near-constant pastime, with few of life’s other chores getting in the way.