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Why me?

I let out a strange sound, half grunt half sob, as I pulled my tired legs out of the clinging mud. The suction tried to pull my boot off and I slumped back down exhausted and demoralised.

As an ex-member of Her Majesty’s Forces you’d think that I would have been prepared for this, but I was in the RAF, we didn’t do tents, we stayed in hotels when we went away.

This was the last time I slept outside, it wasn’t in a warzone, it wasn’t even part of the Seeker Castaway Challenge, this was Glastonbury. The year was 1998 and the torrential downpours had turned Somerset into the Somme. At this point I vowed that I would never again subject myself to this horrible experience.

So what possessed me to get involved with the Castaway Challenge?

Aside from it being an amazing cause that fully deserves everyone’s support I thought, right, here’s a bit of a challenge, mentally, physically and even emotionally. 

I’ve made my kids cry before by refusing to go camping with them, who knows maybe this is the start of something beautiful, perhaps I’m the next Bear Grylls? Probably not, but maybe it will make camping in the garden with the kids seem a little less daunting.

My Castaway preparations

OK, so my preparation for going into the wild isn’t going quite to plan. I had visions of learning map-reading and survival skills from my neighbour, Chris, a helicopter pilot and Lifeboatman. Nick, our deputy editor and ex(by about 20 years) fishmonger was going to teach me how to gut a fish. I was going to do so many things to prepare myself for the great outdoors, you never know I might even tune in to Bear Grylls or Robson’s Extreme Fishing.

But no, so far my preparation consists of investing in a Wilson volleyball from EBay, it is an official Castaway one though, so at least I’ll have some company – and he won’t be too fussy if the food isn’t up to par and we get lost.