"And why is that Barry?"
It was very kind of you to ask.
We spent the weekend at an activity centre close to Barnard Castle in County Durham. There were more than 30 in all, a gaggle of parents and just as many kids.
A similar group of us had been there for New Year but the weather precluded any outdoor adventures, other than walking to the pub (which was every bit as fun).
This time was different.
On Saturday, Vanessa, Charlotte and others indulged in a spot of crate stacking.
Whilst Jamie, me and most of the rest rubbered up for a gorge walk before jumping off a mile high cliff (or so it seemed).
Then on Sunday, Vanessa and Charlotte clambered up ropes.
That's a grimace, not a smile.
As Jamie, yours truly and other rafters built one before paddling it away.
But none of the above posed the greatest challenge of all. No, it was the triple-decker bed that caused me most problems - not to mention physical harm.
To cut to the chase, I attempted to lower myself down from the top bunk for an early morning wee. And my leg got wedged. I'm not sure how, but it did. And I could not extricate myself. So I dangled. And dangled. Then I dangled a bit more.
I was eventually rescued by a fellow daddy who was woken from his slumber "after sensing that there was a distressed animal in the room." I'll be forever grateful.
Unfortunately I'll not be allowed to forget what happened for a little while yet. That's because both of my legs and one of my arms are black with bruising.
Next time I plan to sleep on the floor. And perhaps not drink quite so much red wine.
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