nfortunately it doesn’t quite work out the way you hoped. You hang there for a few minutes more, but the gutter doesn’t rip off any further. You can’t see your fingers but you know they’re turning blue with cold. And you feel them gradually slipping, millimetre by millimetre. Looks like this is it, then. You’re too young to die, but dropping onto those steel spikes is not going to be good for your health. This is going to be too big for a couple of Panadol.

You last about another three minutes, then your fingers finally refuse to hang on any longer. Whoooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooossssssssssssssss sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Down you go. Down down down. It’s a long way. Then up up up. Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeee.

Up? Down? Up? Down? What is going on here? It takes you a while to figure it out. Then you realise. Your trampoline. The removalists parked it at the side of the house while your parents worked out where it should go. Lucky for you they parked it right under the attic window.

Dropping from that great height means you go up and down an awful lot of times. It’s the longest trampoline ride you’ve ever taken. But you’re happy. Face it, you’d rather be doing this than be stuck on the palings as a human shish kebab!