Dear Callum,

You would never guess where I am writing this from: a drafty cabin at a wildlife rehabilitation centre an hour north of Peterborough, with an orphaned raccoon asleep in a basket by my feet. You know how I kept saying I would do something memorable with my month off. A poster at my gym mentioned that the centre was short of hands for the summer, and before I could come up with an excuse, I had put my name down. That first morning I was terrified, since I had never once held a wild animal.