1.Get a cape. 2.Shoot laser beams from my eyes. 3.Fly.

An eight year olds road map to becoming a superhero. I remember it well, as I wrote it, longing for a life less ordinary. One day, I thought, one day...

As an “adult” (I use the term loosely) and as a frequent flyer, the countless hours spent staring out of the small cabin windows of aeroplanes, above the clouds where no matter what weather conditions are present on the ground, up here the sky is blue, the sun shines and everything seems different some how.

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1.Get a cape. 2.Shoot laser beams from my eyes. 3.Fly.

An eight year olds road map to becoming a superhero. I remember it well, as I wrote it, longing for a life less ordinary. One day, I thought, one day...

As an “adult” (I use the term loosely) and as a frequent flyer, the countless hours spent staring out of the small cabin windows of aeroplanes, above the clouds where no matter what weather conditions are present on the ground, up here the sky is blue, the sun shines and everything seems different some how.

“That's right, they are not soft, nor are they fluffy. They bloody hurt.”

In these moments the mind wonders, “are clouds as fluffy and spongy as they look?”, “how cold is it out there?”, “I wonder what it would be like to jump out?”, “I wonder what it would be like to fly?”.

Well, I was about to find out. On one fairly breezy and overcast day in September a combination of my childhood dreams and deranged adult fantasies (no, not those) would become a reality at a military camp in Netheravon, Wiltshire – the home of the famous Red Devils Parachute Display team. The Red Devils are made up of 25 soldiers from the parachute regiments three serving battalions (1, 2 and 3 Para), forming an elite group whose primary raison d'etre is to raise awareness of the army and aid recruitment through the PR received from displays and fundraising events.

Although supported by the army, in a kind of pat on the back, “you're doing a great job lads, we've got your backs” kind of way, they actually don't receive any funding from the army and therefore, the wider government also. This seems pretty shocking to me.

The only silver lining for their cloud (which they get up close and personal with, regularly) is that in the absence of this support, the team have control and the ability to guide their own future. Due to the Red Devil's expertise and reputation as one of the top display teams in the world, they are able to attract support from corporate sponsors, such as Oakley, Seat and Suunto. The sponsors don't provide cash funding per se, but they do provide the tools, equipment and services the team need to be able to do their job.

The majority of the £150,000 they need to raise each year is done through the commercial fees paid by students and fundraisers that take part in lessons and charity jumps. It is not often that business , whether for profit or not, can have such a profound effect on society. As long as the Red Devils remain operational, they will continue to contribute along with the fundraisers, in excess of £1million per year to good causes.

So, it was my turn to get involved. In support of the Fidgetstick/ campaign to raise money for the RNLI Life Guards, I took to the fundraising trail and managed to cobble together from friends, colleagues and family the £500.00 target that I was aiming for.

I arrived at Netharavon camp, wife, mother-in-law and brother present in support. As a military base, the security procedures are pretty tight and everyone had to be signed in, all official like. The staff on the gate were pretty jovial though, and helped to lighten the mood and slight sense of foreboding.

A chisel jawed chap in a red jump suit and maroon beret came to greet us and pointed the direction to the jump centre.

“Would I do it again?”. Yes, I would. In a heartbeat.”

It was all getting that much more real, as we crossed the camp to the reception, signed a few forms, settled up the money side and made our way to the cafe for a coffee and a bacon sarnie. Throughout the canteen, were hundreds of photos taken of different jumps – one man's 1000th jump over the skies of Hong Kong, to a world record attempt formation, to the wing suit flyers that I've spent many a minute watching youtube videos of in awe. In a way, it relieved some tension and I was actually feeling pretty good and eager to get up there.

Following a short introduction to the Red Devils team, we were taken to another room, with a mockup plane model, for a whistlestop “crash-course” in tandem skydiving. The rather large Sgt Billy introduced the key elements of equipment; jumpsuit, harness, hat, gloves, goggles, and, oh, er the parachute of course.

The parachute consists of a main chute & reserve chute, deployable in the event of failure of the former. It was reassuring to know that the parachute also comes equipped with an “Automatic Deployment Device” (ADD) which is designed to release the reserve chute if the main one hasn't been deployed by a certain altitude, particularly useful should a clash of heads on exiting the plane render both student and instructor unconscious and otherwise facing a certain and horrific death. Phew!

Next up was body positioning. Preparation for leaving the aircraft consisted of firstly, being securely fastened at 4 separate points to the instructor, who also happens to be the one with the parachute, so this is a great idea. Position 1 involves grabbing hold of your harness strap somewhere near the shoulders, crossing your legs, arching your back and putting your head back. “Make like a banana”, he said.

After leaving the aircraft, you are due a quick tap on the shoulder and you move to position 2. This involves a simple change in arm position, releasing the harness from your now white knuckled grasp, bending the elbows 90 degrees and your hand out in front of your face. Simple.

The final and most important piece of safety advice pertains to the body position upon landing approach and execution. It was made abundantly clear, that most accidents and injuries occur due to incorrect landing, resulting in broken legs or broken backs. We were to lift our knees to our chest and extend the legs well clear of the ground, allowing the instructor to take and control the landing.

And so with that cheerful note to end on, we were ready to go. I was in the third group of four going up that day. In the first group was a gentleman celebrating his 92nd Birthday - former 'Desert Rat' Leonard Stephenson. Raising money and awareness for the Queen Alexandra Hospital Home (QAHH), along with his son, aged 50, these two were the talk of the day and it was amazing to be a part of.

“The majority of the £150,000 they need to raise each year is done through the commercial fees paid by students and fundraisers”

It was a 10-15 minute flight to our destination altitude of around 13,500ft. There was a real sense of anticipation and the adrenalin was pumping, my stomach felt heavy, but I can't say I was nervous or afraid, which surprised me. When the pilot was ready, the light in the plane went out and we were on. Dave, my cameraman, climbed out of the plane and held on to a small rail. I can see his face vividly etched in my mind as he was being pulled along by the plane. We shuffled across to the door, as the first pair due to jump, and we readied into position. With a cursory smile, a wink and a wave of the hand, Dave released his grasp of the plane and began to plummet, spiraling down towards the bank of clouds below.

Taking up position 1, I was now dangling from the aircraft, banana-like in my body shape, only the butt cheeks of my instructor keeping us in the.... oooooooohhhhhhh crrrrrraaaaapppppp!!!!!!!!!!!!

Falling through the sky, the sky was deep blue, the clouds white as snow and sun glistening off the underside of the aeroplane, which was now in full view as we tumbled over and over. We righted ourselves, steadied position and with a quick tap of the shoulder, took position 2. We were gathering speed and it was forcing my arms back which was uncomfortable, but it really didn't matter. We were free-falling at 120mph, that's covering approximately 2 ½ miles of pure unadulterated rush, the roar of the wind past your ears, and the stinging of water droplets as they hit your face when you pass down through the clouds. That's right, they are not soft, nor are they fluffy. They bloody hurt.

Out of nowhere appears Dave, smiling and clearly reveling in taking snaps of the petrified. But weirdly, that still wasn't me – I was loving it, every second and it didn't feel like there were many. The freefall was without a doubt the most magnificent part of the whole thing and the best thing I have ever experienced. Dave disappeared again, presumably to get some shots from another angle. He'd pop back a few times and I'd muster my most creative reaction to his presence, a smile, a thumbs up and the “piece de resistance “ the good old tongue out!

The clouds broke and the vast countryside views opened up before my eyes, reaching so far as the Isle of Wight. By this point, I was quite comfortable with the freefall, I was absorbing everything as best I could as I knew any minute, something had to happen. With a jolt that was not unfriendly, we were hoisted upright very quickly, and I saw Dave plummet away from us at amazing speed. The chute had been deployed and once the canopy was fully open, Billy gave the nod. We were OK.

The noise stopped immediately, and it became eerily silent, calm and tranquil. From total all out head mashing rave to radio 2 with your pipe and slippers. Only the view was magnificent to behold. Billy shook things up, including my bacon sandwich, by performing some pretty wild aerobatics with the canopy, big turns, and dips. It was a bit like when your driving a car, you can be absolutely fine, but the passenger who is not in control and not ready for the various maneuvers, can feel quite motion sick. We practiced the landing position and when Billy was satisfied, he resumed his aerobatic demonstration.

The canopy ride lasted about 5 or 6 minutes, after which we landed safely and to a warm welcome and applause. I still grin every time I talk about it, I was grinning for 2 days non-stop after the event, and I'm grinning like crazy as I write this and relive it. This was the most exciting thing I have ever done, bar none. Quite a few people have asked, as if it's some kind of barometer of recommendation, “would you do it again?”. Yes, I would. In a heartbeat.

It costs £290.00 to jump with the Red Devils on top of your fundraising efforts, but you must keep an eye out and book early as their events fill up fast.