Ali Shahalom

The heat wave is deadly.

What if something terrible has happened?

That's when I remember I have a secret weapon, a very particular set of skills, skills I've acquired over a very long career.

So I will look for them and I will find them because I made sure we all put air tags in our bags.

That's right, my wife rolled her eyes and called me extra months ago when I pitched these stalker-style tracking devices.

But now who's laughing, eh?

Okay, we're not laughing.

But still, sure enough, I open the Find My app and it shows my mum and wife still in camp.

At last, an anxious voice answers the phone.

I just about make out what my wife is saying.

Yeah, the signal wasn't great.

She said, Ali, we're lost in camp, and my heart sank.

But the coach driver's about to set off, so I make a split decision.

We ditch the girls and do it alone, lads on tour, all aboard the banter bus.

Oi, oi!

Did you actually, Ali?

No, James, I'm kidding.

But the coach driver was seriously about to leave, so I tell Dad to stay on board and head to Arafat while I go and find the girls.

A few of the brothers on the coach offer to keep an eye on my dad, and I set off on my Mission Impossible Minute Edition.

I'm navigating this maze as if my life depended on it, like a stressed and sweaty Pac-Man.