I’ve been very fortunate in that respect. In the early days I liked to be the bomb of the expedition, and rush on ahead and do things faster than anybody else. Those days merged very pleasantly into periods when I organized and inspired expeditions and selected these younger people who were then the bombs of the operation. And then it drifted into this involvement with the people of the area, still loving the mountains, but finding the people just as important too. And on and on it’s gone. As I get older and less physically capable, I find other challenges have grown up and become just as important to me.

Losing my mind.

When my father was in his terminal year, I discussed death with him. I recall very clearly his relief that the cancer that was taking him was at least allowing him "all his marbles". Dementia in its varied forms is not like cancer. Dad saw the cancer in his pancreas as an invader. But Alzheimer's is me, unwinding, losing trust in myself, a butt of my own jokes and on bad days capable of playing hunt the slipper by myself and losing. You can't battle it, you can't be a plucky "survivor". It steals you from yourself. And I'm 60; that's supposed to be the new 40.

Forgetting things.

When my UK citizenship was approved. It’s taken me eight years and lots and lots of money. I was at home in South Africa when I received the news and my mum said, “I am so happy for you because this is your glitterball.”

I’ll never amount to anything. Who? He was my rival at dance school. It hurt and is something that I’ve always had in the back of my head to defy.

I almost pulled out of my first solo tour because of impostor syndrome.

Building my mum her dream home.

My default will always be to go for the worst-case scenario and that is something that I am unlearning.

My father because I was 12 when he passed and I blamed him for everything in my parents’ marriage. Now I realise he did the best he could and was just figuring life out like everybody else.