I had embarrassingly few hobbies. Instead, if my social life were a TV series, alcohol would have been the recurring character; a liquid leitmotif flowing through each celebration, commiseration and casual Wednesday evening catch-up.

But as I blew out the candles on my 33rd birthday cake, I was itching for a new pursuit – one that would move me away from the rinse, wash and repeat of my usual routine and launch me straight into my discomfort zone.

Life has a way of putting what you need right in front of you, and forcing you to face it in a Clockwork Orange eyes-stapled-open style. And so it was that a chance encounter (appropriately enough in a pub) introduced me to a London-based amateur football team, Judas FC, who were setting up a women’s side – the Judesses – amid the excitement and enthusiasm around the Lionesses’ Euros win.

In a moment of blind bravado, and despite my negligible ball-kicking credentials, I signed up.

“I hated sports my whole life – until I joined a local women’s football team in my 30s”