It's been described as the ultimate test for a marriage.

I'd say that was a bit of an understatement.

But explorers Mike and Fiona Thornewill not only survived their trek of 730 miles over the frozen wastelands of Antarctica - becoming the first married couple to walk to the South Pole - they came out smiling.

They even claim that the experience brought them closer together, and they chose the remote spot to renew their marriage vows.

I don't believe a word of it - and if it's true they're obviously not a "normal" couple. I mean, nine weeks in a tent, in temperatures of 45C below zero.

As a person who puts her anorak on to open the freezer, it's not something I'd contemplate, especially not with the person I'm most prone to argue with. It's like learning to drive and other stressful activities - anyone with any sense will tell you, never do them with your nearest and dearest.

Their polar trip sounds like a lot of fun - Mike damaged a cartilage as well as suffering frostbite, and Fiona hobbled along with severe sores.

And they still didn't fall out. Amazing. Were my husband and I in the same boat, we'd be at each other's throat even before we'd packed our rucksacks. Never mind toes turning black with cold - we could find plenty to fall out about...I can even predict how every disagreement would start:

Before setting off:

HIM: "Where's my ice pick? I know I put it in this cupboard. You've moved it, haven't you? I'll never find it now..."

ME: "It's there on the dresser, where you put it five minutes ago. COME ON - FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE WE'VE GOT A PLANE TO CATCH IN 40 MINUTES AND YOU'RE STILL IN YOUR DRESSING GOWN!"

Ten yards into the expedition:

HIM: "Will you stop trying to trip me up with that sledge?"

ME: "I'm not - you should look where you're going. And while we're on the subject, you could easily have got a better deal on those goggles. I knew I should have gone to that shop with you."

After an hour:

HIM: "This thermal vest is all scratchy. I told you to use that hypo-allergenic washing powder."

ME: "I did, you're just hypo-sensitive."

HIM: "You must have used that awful conditioner - you want me to feel uncomfortable to get me back for that weekend on Snowdon."

ME: "You were a wimp then, you got the train up."

After three hours:

ME: "I'm starving, where are the sandwiches?"

HIM: "Under all the other stuff, where you put them. You'll have to unpack everything."

ME: "Oh, God, they're frozen solid."

HIM: "Well, what did you expect. You're absolutely useless."

After one day:

ME: "I can't hammer this tent peg in, and where's the entrance? I hate these stupid tents, can you help. Where's the fly-sheet?"

HIM: "What was that? Hell, I think there's a polar bear roaming."

ME: "It was my stomach. I'm starving, I've had enough of this, I told you we should have gone to Tenerife. I'm going home first thing tomorrow."

HIM: "I've just dropped the compass in an ice hole..."

Unlike the Thornewills, if we ever embarked on such a mission, we'd end up poles apart.

We certainly wouldn't come back together. We probably wouldn't come back at all.

If I really was in the unlikely position of polar explorer, I'd much rather do as Bradford mum Ann Daniels, currently following in the Thornewills' footsteps, does...

Leave the husband at home and go with a group of girls.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.