Perching precariously at the top of the half pipe, I regretted not practising my pelvic floor exercises during pregnancy.
For not only was I stuck on top of a very tall skate ramp, with no way of getting down, I was a little damp in the gusset region.
This was no doubt brought on by the exertion of being forced to charge up the 20-foot half pipe (ok ten), Ninja Warrior style, with an audience of bemused youths chanting: “Beat the wall, beat the wall…”
In moment of bravado, I was determined to beat that wall and I got up there – with a little heaving from behind. But now I was stuck at the top, peering over the edge at the drop below and wondering how the hell to get down…
It was an awkward position for an overweight, bespectacled, 40-something mother of two to find herself in, and as I nervously steeled myself to navigate the vertical slope, I made a mental note to invest in a bumper pack of Tena Ladies.
It turns out, the only way was to slide down on one’s arse in a very undignified fashion.
The things we do for our children! I am forever getting into scrapes at the skatepark in a bid to keep the little angels entertained.
A graffiti-clad obstacle course for wheeled playthings, strewn with charred wheely bin remains, rizzlas and empty cans of energy drinks and occupied by acne-ridden teenagers in North Face hoodies, the skatepark has a fascinating hold over my kids.
And as much as I try to divert them to a more wholesome playground with ducks, crocuses and roundabouts, they are drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
I can’t let them go there alone, of course, for fear of them being poached by a gang of drug- crazed granny beaters, so I find myself reluctantly accompanying them to this unsavoury haven for disillusioned youths.
And there’s always an adventure to be had. There was the time I was roped into a game of ‘manhunt’ with a gang of 10-year-olds trying to hide my bulky frame behind a ramp in the BMX track.
And the time I engaged in unpleasantries with a 30-something wannabe skater boy who told my five-year-old to “get out my effing way!”
They certainly don’t prepare you for this in the NCT handbook… However, they do advice you to spend ten minutes a day clenching your lady muscles.
So, take heed my fellow mums and clench away, because, not only will you be required to boing heartily on a trampoline or bouncy castle one day, you may also find yourself scaling dizzy heights…