Supermarket trolley pusher, Fluff factory worker, Courgette picker, Burger bar, Washer-upper, Waitress

Following a hedonistic first few months of my gap year, I ran out of cash and became stuck half way up Australia’s east coast.

I had always fancied fruit picking. Getting paid for spending days in the sunshine, picking and maybe eating the odd grape sounded rather pleasant.

Sadly, there was a lack of fruit in the region; only marrows - courgettes to be precise. I signed up anyway, having little alternative. My working day began at four, being trucked out to the nearest suitable field. As daylight broke, the vast field of kilometre-long rows of courgette plants became visible.

I was set to work on a row of plants. I had to bend down at each, slice off the ripest courgettes, and fling them into my bucket. Once my bucket was full I would chase after a truck, which was chugging along at what felt like a breakneck pace, and empty my bucket.

My fellow workers were locals who had been doing the job for decades and were considerably more proficient at the task than me. Trying to keep up with them was challenging, particularly with their less than encouraging cries of "bloody pom" and "flamin’ galah" (I’ll spare you the rest).

The working day was 13 hours with a half hour lunch break. The sunshine was somewhat less pleasant than I had imagined as the 35 degree heat slowed me down further.

I sustained cuts, bruises and a very sore back but the oddest element were the cane toads, introduced to Australia as a means of farming pest control. They would jump out from the plants and frighten the life out of me in my tired, weary state.

Since returning to the UK, I haven’t been able to go near a courgette in the supermarket, let alone tuck into one.