MY heart is pounding. I’m in the middle of a forest wanting to run for my life. Shall I jump?

I GET hit by a barrelling wave. It’s small in size but knocks me off my surfboard as I attempt to stand up.

I’M starting to wobble. I’m in the Czech Republic but it’s not their famous beer that’s to blame. It's the Segway!

I CAN feel the sweat down my neck, my heart is racing and my thighs are burning. I've reached the top of Antigua.

I’VE died and reached the city of heaven. No, I haven’t. I’ve just been on the piste in the French Alps.

I’VE made good friends with this mango tree, the sand and the sun – 4,000 miles away from rainy Britain.

SPRAWLED across two sun beds, I drop off to sleep with a racket in my hand. I haven’t even been playing tennis.

I CAN’T run up there, I squeaked. No one mentioned anything about having to sprint up a vertical sand dune.