As Suze's rowdy kids had gone off to Blackpool for the weekend with their longsuffering grandparents, I suggested an invigorating walk in the hills: we could both do with a bit of exercise and anyway there are always plenty of pubs in the country.

I found Suze with her feet up in the kitchen, lusting after pop stars on Saturday morning TV, her face covered in what she said was a face mask but looked like some sort of medieval porridge.

She wasn't too keen on the idea at first, but I spread the map out and several rounds of toast and marmalade and two big pots of tea later we'd agreed on a manageable-looking route. After a bit of a struggle to get the porridge off Suze and the map, we set off in the pick-up truck with Bruce Springsteen on the stereo, stopping off at the deli for a few rations.

Suze's mapreading skills left a lot to be desired, and by the time we arrived it was time for lunch, which was just as well as we'd forgotten to bring anything to carry it in. Eventually we made it out into the fresh air, and set off purposefully, feeling healthy and alive. However, I'd completely underestimated Suze's embarrassing capacity for attracting the unexpected…

Couldn't believe it when Annie broke into my annual de-stress program, ranting about power walking and fresh air. As usual it all went her way, and in next to no time I found myself shivering at high altitude, contemplating a practically perpendicular slope.

Unbelievably, we made it to the top, although it was an unpleasant sight: Annie, red as a beetroot, wheezing and puffing and taking her pulse every five minutes, and Muffin bringing up the rear, panting and slobbering.

Luckily, I'd brought a couple of Curly Wurlies, and much refreshed, we bounded heartily across the heather. We'd just started on 'Ten Green Bottles', when things started looking up: streaming up the valley on mountain bikes were several hundred muscly male participants in the Three Shires Challenge.

It turned out that part of the activity was to solicit as many kisses as possible, and of course I was more than happy to oblige, although Annie came over all grumpy and puritanical and strode on ahead. Unfortunately she had the map, so I had to break off and run to catch up, much to everyone's disappointment. She cheered up later though when I bought her a rum and raisin ice cream and offered to drive home: she and Muffin fell asleep together, dribbling, while I dreamt of all that lovely sweaty lycra.