Travel sickness has dogged me all my life. It’s much worse when travelling by car or bus, but I’m not good on boats either.

I remember getting told off countless times for throwing up over various members of my family. The weekend trips to the East Coast to the family caravan were a nightmare – my dad had a van, and us kids were in the back. The sickness was always worse when I couldn’t see out the window. And boat trips on the Yorkshire Rose at Scarborough were a complete waste of money.

On the long trips to Devon, with my own children in the back, my husband had to make frequent stops for me to be sick, sometimes at the bottom of people’s drives.

During my years as a primary school teacher, coach trips were part of the job. One particular horrendous school trip, was a short journey to Lotherton Hall, less than an hour’s drive. It was pouring with rain. The coach arrived an hour late. It was a double decker and the children wanted to go upstairs. We set off, visibility was poor, and the driver put his foot down, trying to make up for lost time. Corners were taken sharply, brakes applied suddenly. We hadn’t gone far, when I started to feel ill… and so did Jason Fleming. We spent the entire journey sharing the sick bucket – the class waste paper bin.

I think when I finally leave this earth, I’ll leave instructions for the coffin to be put on the back of a horse drawn carriage.