I am not what you would call the outdoors type. The idea of roughing it, sleeping under canvas and getting close to nature simply does not appeal.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of these women who can’t live without my hair straighteners.
But when it comes to a weekend away, I’d rather be cosied up in a luxury hotel than holed up in a two-man tent.
So when it was suggested that my partner and I try out a winter wigwam break, I was sceptical, to say the least.
The north-east of Scotland is not exactly renowned for its balmy temperatures and I had visions of wearing three jumpers, huddling round a candle just to keep warm while my other half attempted not to cremate our sausages over a disposable barbecue.
The reality could not have been further from the truth, and it turned out to be one of the best holidays we’ve ever experienced.
We headed up the coast on a Saturday afternoon, with the postcode of our wigwam in the satnav, fully expecting to get lost.
But after a surprisingly simple drive, we found our little home for the next two days – at Greenley Croft, between the coastal villages of Pennan and Crovie.
The accommodation is run by a retired crofting couple, who now run a pottery gallery, and sits on its own in a field beside their home.
Unlike the traditional American Indian dwelling, our wigwam was made out of wooden slats, with a window overlooking the glorious Banffshire countryside.
And, very unlike the real thing, this luxury version has everything you could need.
There is a plumbed-in toilet and shower, a sink, cooker and microwave, heating, a double bed and a dining table for four – my kind of roughing it.
The wigwam also has plenty of plugs so we could watch movies on our computer and, had I felt the need, my hair straighteners could even have come with us.
But the highlight of our little plot, according to my back-to-nature boyfriend, was the outdoor firepit surrounded by tree-stump stools. More on this later.
The croft sits on the road heading down to the Troup Head nature reserve, with a stunning walk along the cliffs. To work up an appetite for our evening meal, we took a walk to the RSPB site as the sun was dipping and watched a colony of gannets, nesting in the cliffs, diving for their own dinner.
Back at the wigwam, it was time to start up the fire – for which kindling and logs are provided for a few pounds.
My boyfriend decided firmly that this was his domain, so I chopped veg and prepared the meat while he got down to the serious hunter-gatherer business of burning things.
It really was great fun, cooking lamb shoulder and chicken kebabs over the fire. We sat out in the inky countryside darkness for hours, toasting marshmallows, drinking boozy hot cocoa and gazing at the stars, which were among the clearest I’ve ever seen.
Then we turned in, cosying up in the toasty wigwam with a film before bed.
The next morning, we made sausage sarnies – this time over the hob – before heading out to explore the area.
There is so much to see and do along the spectacular coastline, from the great fun aquarium at Macduff to the plethora of little villages along the cliffs, all with their own idiosyncrasies.
We first headed for Cullykhan Bay where, as a cub reporter, I had once dressed up as a pirate and spoke to locals about sunken treasure, found off the coast. We walked along the beach, skimmed stones and came across the carcase of a dead seal – not very romantic, but interesting all the same.
Then we tootled along the coast to Pennan, where we discovered a cave, and then discovered the lovely inn for a pint of local ale.
Portsoy was also on our agenda and there we explored the 17th-century harbour before stopping for a cuppa and a heat at the fantastically quirky Beggars Belief cafe.
Then it was time to head back to our wigwam for another bash at the fire-pit.
My boyfriend had been talking about his strategy for building a bigger and longer-lasting version on night two for most of the day. And we had invested in some steaks to cook on the open flame.
Again, it was a great night, warming our toes and chatting over the flames.
We had been told not to rush in leaving the following morning, and were happy to hang about, reluctant to leave the wigwam to which we had become quite attached.
But eventually, we packed up the car and waved goodbye to our little wooden home-from-home with a solemn promise that we would be back for another stay – and another crack at perfecting the fire.
For more information on Greenley Croft wigwam, and the other wigwams throughout the country, log on to www.wigwam holidays.com