Tying my walking shoes, I heard my phone ring.
‘I’m so sorry Laura, I’m not going to make it this week,’ my friend said.
‘Feeling a little worse for wear after last night!’
It was a Sunday morning in Spring 2010, and a group of us were supposed to be meeting for our weekly walk in Lincolnshire.
I was 25, and keen to keep fit, I’d enjoyed our walks around small local villages, chatting to the group of fellow walkers.
But a few of us had been out the night before, and now, some were paying the price.
One by one our group numbers dwindled, but I was still keen to head out.
‘Looks like it’s just you and me then,’ I said to Nigel Glanville, 40, the only member…
