KATHY LETTE

“This hibernation bug is so contagious’

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Hope you had a nice summer break, because I booked a one-way ticket on a guilt trip. Every time I checked social media, friends were flaunting their 'Living My Best Life' hashtags. I felt assaulted by a never-ending stream of Instagram posts featuring pals kayaking in Cumbria, surfing in Cornwall, sailing the Solent or whooping it up at music festivals. They beamed back at me, smile wattage on 'stun', flexing proteinshake-fuelled bods as if poised to run a marathon up Mount Kilimanjaro at a moment's notice.

Unless I was noshing on raw yak meat with tribeswomen on the tundra or rafting with rebels on the crocodile-infested Zambezi, eating things that blinked back at me, well, apparently, I just wasn't living!

The most dangerous thing I've done all summer is to take the night bus from Kensington to Kilburn. But the pressure to join in this action-packed Fun Fest is relentless. Nor will adventurous pals accept any excuse for opting out; well, not unless I’m in an iron lung or have a leg in traction.