Have you ever held a wine glass to your lips and thought, “I could just bite this. What would happen if I did?” Or looked over a cliff-side railing and had to fight the urge to leap? Even if you’re a cautious person, not a reckless bone in your body, you will have had a moment when a dramatic, dangerous and potentially painful action has flashed across your mind.

If my email inbox was a terrible 1980s faux-political anthem, it would be Latin Quarter’s Radio Africa. I literally only ever hear bad news. And despite the protection offered by the mental barricades I’ve worked so hard to build, this news does start to break through. Through the Barricades, as it were.

A couple of years ago, I was pretty close to giving up. How close? I’m not sure it really matters. I didn’t die, although I could have. I did cry, almost to the point where I couldn’t any more.

The technicalities of Brexit are lost on many people, some of them influential members of backbench MP groups. There’s no shame if the ins and outs of a customs union elude you, or a backstop is someone who tried to prevent the ball rolling into the road in rounders.

At the end of December 2017, I went to Peru. You may already know why I was there. I’m going to explain it all anyway. It’s a long article, because there’s a lot to say. It’s a journey into my soul – a place I was convinced didn’t even exist. Maybe get yourself a cup of tea or something.