Jumping Jumping

All has been rather doom and gloom around here lately, but instead of dwelling on my (now restored) dodgy internet, the crazy destructive bushfires that were, thank god, nowhere near me, the end of the two weeks of summer we were apparently allocated this year, or the theft and continued absence of the Scarlet Lady and my resultant reliance on public transport and hatred for the world, we are going to talk about a subject a little more upbeat. You with me? Awesome.

When we were little, my cousins had a trampoline. Between the two youngest, they broke three wrists in the space of a couple of years on (or, more accurately, off) the trampoline. I was jealous. I never got a cast (or crutches). The oldest cousin broke the trampoline mat one night when she and her friends all got on it in high heels, but it got fixed. And my cousins and I liked to turn the tramp on its side then run and knock it over, with us ending up on top of the mat. We also liked to put detergent on the mat and the sprinkler underneath and slide around on it.

My primary school had two trampolines. One massive yellow one and a normal black one. The After School Care kids (of which I was one) were the only ones who ever got to use them, and then I think it was only one year that we were allowed to get them out. The yellow one was the best, and I kicked arse on it. I could jump mega high, and do all kinds of spinning jumps. Then one day the trampolines went away and we had to go back to playing Poison Ball Against The Wall.

But I never had a trampoline of my own. So, as you can imagine, I was very very excited to go to Trampoline World, a magical world just full of trampolines. But, sadly, as you may remember, Trampoline World was frickin CLOSED on the one day we went there. I was devastated.



LUCKILY, Dad is an excellent accommodation booker, and managed to get us into a place with a jumpy pillow. A freaking trampoline equivalent right there in our backyard for two whole days. How awesome is that?! (It was at this time that I discovered that brother, who never had the cousinly trampoline exposure I did, had no idea how to play Crack The Egg. Who doesn't know how to play Crack The Egg? The kid had such a deprived childhood.)



So now you know, if you are ever in need of a Christmas present for me, just buy me a massive trampoline and I will love you forever. The end.