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Saturday 19th June 2004

CNPS numbers spotted 1 (840).

I can’t quite believe that tomorrow I am going to willingly throw myself out of an aeroplane. In fact, however much I attempt to think about it, the reality of the situation just does not come home to me. It could be worse; I will be attached to a man who will be wearing a parachute and providing he doesn’t have a heart attack mid-way down (and as long as he’s happy with his lot in life and isn’t considering rather selfishly ending it all and taking me with him), then I should get to the ground in one or two pieces. But even so.
I tried to imagine what it would be like to be flying in a plane with the door open and being expected to step out of it. But my brain is not playing ball on this one - possibly having very little to draw on in the way of experience, or maybe it just doesn’t want to think about it – and I find myself unable to conjure up the scene.
I suppose I am a little bit nervous, but rather frighteningly not as concerned as I should be given what I am about to do. This sort of thing is very out of character for me: I never take risks and am usually stupidly cautious. Yet all being well this time tomorrow I will have taken a leap of faith and hopefully landed safely.
It is incredible that I am prepared to do this. And what is more strange is that I’m sure I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t for the show. But the fact that it is for a show means that I am certain I won’t back out. Because if I do back out I will have to think of another stupid task to do. Out of all the tasks this was the one that I hoped would prove impossible for some logistical reason, but then someone at my management company revealed that her dad was involved with parachuting and fixed me up with a date and a time and there was no way out.
Unless weather conditions prove too adverse.
Fingers crossed for that.
Though come tomorrow, in a field in Oxfordshire, it will be raining fat comedians

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