As I park my car on my allocated position at the back of the grid, I fleetingly imagine Murray’s voice excitedly shouting down the five red lights, to signify the start of the race. At once I push the thought aside, focusing my whole being on what I am to undertake, as I had been taught over the last gruelling six months.

I can see the flashing roof light on the safety-car. It’s moving forward, there’s an almighty deafening roar even through the heavy helmet. Surely my pumping heart is going to burst through my chest. My lips have dried. Please, please, don’t let me stall.

I’m off. I’m picking up speed. I can see a couple of cars ahead but the gap is getting longer. Must concentrate. This start/finish line is wide here at Monza but it suddenly tightens so I brake hard and change down to second gear. The kerbs are low at this point but I’m not experienced enough to bounce over them. It’s dusty – I peel a layer off my visor, my left hand gripping the steering wheel so hard that a pain shoots up may arm. I’m round the first bend and am still on the track. There’s a car off on the Curva Grande. I’ll not be the first to retire then. My shoulders are aching already. I’ll never be able to complete the six laps they’ve offered me. Yes I must – that what all that hard training has been for – six days a week in the gym. I’ve completed a lap!

There are people at the start/finish line waving banners. There is no other car near me – surely it can’t be for me. I’m so hot.. Focus! Focus! Focus! I’m on my second lap. I’m enjoying it now. Oh no – there’s a car coming up behind me – it’s red. Am I blocking it – no there’s room for it to pass. Oh my God – it’s Michael. Michael Schumaker is behind me in the Italian Grand Prix! O.K. so he’s lapping me – please don’t let me crash into him. He’s passed – he’s giving me a “thumbs up”.

I’m on the last of my laps now and everybody who is still in the race has lapped me at least twice but I don’t care. I’m going to give it my all on the straight to the finish line – I’m in 6th gear at 140 mph.

I’m creeping around the circuit to the pit lane and the Jordan garage is alive with people waving and cheering. I can barely lift myself out of the car but a couple of mechanics are helping me to stand and another takes my helmet off. There’s a cameraman and an interviewer who is asking me what it’s like to be the first female Formula 1 Racing Driver. I’m trying to get my dry mouth open to speak when somebody in red runs up to me and envelopes me with a big hug. I’ve had a “thumbs up” from Michael Schumaker and a hug from Ross Brawn – what the hell do you think it’s like!