Task 7: Whizz down the Orbit giant slide

This was definitely one of those Tigger experiences, like going paragliding. My immediate thought was that I’d really enjoy it, even though I don’t like heights.  Then, having included it in my list of 60 tasks so it was too late to change my mind, I began to realise this was unlikely.  Hurtling down a narrow corkscrew tube, given I can’t even turn my head without feeling dizzy, seemed daft.  Seeing the ArcelorMittal Orbit up close wasn’t reassuring, as it's a long way up:

We went up in the lift to the top floor to admire the view and bizarrely found a photoshoot of a host of Santas and occasional elves taking place.  This was too good an opportunity to miss, so I started sidling up close enough to get in the shot (I’m the shadowy figure on the left):

A little cluster obligingly made space for me and then moved me centre-stage.  I’ve no idea why they were there or what the photos were for:

After that, I couldn’t delay any longer and joined the very small queue for the descent, while Peter got the lift back down to the ground floor, ready to photograph my exit from the tube.  As I was waiting, I noticed a sign which said that no-one with vertigo should go down the slide.  I don’t recall seeing any such advice on the website when I made the booking but I was determined to go ahead with it, even though by that stage I was heartily regretting the whole idea.  Hearing the screams of those hurtling downwards didn’t help.

When it was my turn I had to don a protective bonnet – not a fetching look – and forearm guards, and then clamber into a sort of sack with the front top half cut away, resting on a rubber mat on the metal slide.  I was instructed to hold a cord attached to the foot of the sack with my right hand, while pulling myself forwards with the other, until I reached a certain point, when I should grasp the cord with both hands.  Throughout the descent I should keep my shoulders relaxed and sit half upright.  With a helpful shove from the instructor, I was off.

Just relax, I told myself.  Suddenly everything went black, which I wasn’t expecting, and I started being thrown from side to side, while picking up speed and going round in circles.  After a brief section which had some daylight, it went black again and I was going so fast it felt out of control and really scary.  Then – whoomph – I plummeted down into space and nausea became the overriding sensation.  Thankfully only a few seconds later I emerged into fresh air. 

Peter was ready with the camera but wasn’t sure at first that it was me.  Everyone else had appeared with their head and shoulders raised, whereas all he could see of me was a pair of white hands clutching the cord:

It was a couple of minutes before I could face getting vertical again and displaying my bonnet:

The smile is misleading – it’s sheer relief.  To be fair, I was at least 35 years older than anyone else doing it and unlike them, I wasn’t exactly having a ball.  Still, I was really glad to have achieved it, and even happier knowing I’d never have to do it again.  Tiggers definitely prefer extract of malt.