I have been part of The Performance Ensemble for four years and have been taking long walks for about fifteen. Theatre and walking in the countryside are my two great loves and so I am never more pleased than when they coincide.

My friend Rowena and I went to the Lakes on a short walking holiday, and we stayed in a beautiful Victorian Youth Hostel, high above Elterwater. The garden had lovely views of Loughrigg Fell, and we decided we would climb it the next day. After an early breakfast, excited to begin our walk, I packed my rucksack, and drove us into Ambleside.

I thought we were ready to go – there’s something special about being first up the fell with the dew still in the grass – when Rowena remembered a pair of shoes she had seen in a shop window the previous evening. The shop was at the far end of the main street, and she wanted to go before we set off. I smiled and tried hard not to be irritated, or at least not to show it.

We got to the shop just before 9am, but it was shut and wouldn’t open until 9.30am. Rowena thought maybe coffee was a good idea? No, I was ready to walk and wouldn’t hang around any longer.

Despite the dodgy start, the day went really well: a good walk with spectacular views. We got back into Ambleside mid- afternoon, and wandered back down to the shoe shop, only to see an empty space in the window where her shoes had been!

Rowena had a long conversation with the shopkeeper, as though by protesting her love for the shoes, they would suddenly reappear in the stock room, not sold at all. She thought the shoes were so unusual, so beautiful. They were exactly what she wanted, the perfect colour, and just the right size.

With every comment I felt more ashamed of my impatience that morning. I walked to the end of the shop and pretended to look at some boots, trying not to listen.

When Rowena was told that the shoes were the end of a line and had been half-price – my humiliation was complete. Why had a thirty minute wait been so impossible for me?

It rained the next day.