I remember going to the Fun House at Barry Island when I was young. There was a large clown's head over the main door and a recorded jolly voice inviting people in. From outside you could see people walking through, over the undulating gangplanks, pushing them up and down, then up some steps to the next level where more oscillating planks would move their feet in alternate directions while they tried to walk on them. If they survived, they would enter a large rolling barrel, trying very hard to stand up as they ran through to the fun house proper at the back. It would be enough to encourage me and my friends to go on inside and endure the trials that we had just seen. It's hard to remember all of what was beyond. It was dark, distorted mirrors on the wall in places, ultra violet lights and a kind of musty smell. It had the feeling of a kind of den, a special place to hang out with the cool kids.

The thing that stands out most in my memory, was the slide. It was wide, wooden and even then it had a sense of the ancient about it. It had an almost vertical drop that seemed so high it would scare the willies out of you. I remember seeing the big kids throwing themselves down, yelling bravado and encouraging everyone else with whoops and cheers. It looked like fun. It looked scary. The times I would climb to the top and look down over the edge and go no further. "Not today, no, not now". As I stepped back, the older kids would move past and step off the edge without a thought into the abyss. Eventually, I would pluck up the courage to sit on the edge, looking down, perhaps pushing myself up on my hands, teetering, daring myself to just let go and drop. My heart was pounding, the adrenaline flowing and often, still I would back out, much to the annoyance of the kids waiting behind me.

But occasionally my courage would not fail me. I would let myself go, enslave myself to gravity and... drop. For an awe inspiring moment, my heart would stop, my breath would be held so tightly in my chest, and I would fall, forever it would seem, getting faster and faster, the air rushing past until the gentle slope of the slide guided me to the ground, and shot me out at speed, into the barriers at the end. I remember looking back and thinking the slide didn't really look that high after all. Emboldened, now I would rush out, back round to the front of the Fun House and go through again and again, until the slide was no longer a novelty. All that would be left was a sense of achievement and perhaps a few friction burns on my elbows.

Every time I came back to Barry Island, the slide at the Fun House would always cause a level of trepidation and I have to admit there would be times that I would still back out.

This is, of course, one of my usual attempts at using an analogy. It has been some time since I have blogged anything at all. Several years, in fact. Life got in the way. But now I am back at the top of that slide, looking down at my feet dangling over the edge. If I'm honest, I've had a fair few go's these past twelve months. I've shared this side to me in ways I could only have dreamed of before. Now to share some of that here. Here goes! Wheeeeee!