Roll up for abundance of fun, adventures

IT’S a blessing living the life we do in paradise, especially when you feel you’ve tried as many stunts as Evel Knievel, actually I sometimes feel that way just driving along the Bruce Highway from Townsville to Ingham.

I remember one particular stunt for lifesaving week, being dropped off right near the shark buoys at Alma Bay, waiting to be picked up by the rescue chopper.

I nearly swam over to the little yellow buoy for a rest, until I realised what could be hanging off it.

I remember turning around to the bloke who had been dropped off with me saying, “If they don’t come soon there’ll be a fair dinkum bloody rescue!”

It’s terrific to see all the sports and activities you can have a crack at, even if you thought you would never like it.

Our city could easily be the adventure capital with the sports available and wilderness so close.

There are of course other things I’ve been conned into … I mean, asked politely.

The circus for instance, and no not the mighty Great Moscow Circus, the ones I was involved in were years back, before the workplace health and silliness laws could protect us.

Many mango seasons ago I was asked to dress as a clown … OK … just a little different to what I wear now, I mean the full-on big shoes, pants, silly hat, obviously I didn’t need the big nose.

I thought it would be just running around being silly, but no, it was falling off the trapeze into the net. The falling was easy, it was the bouncing in the net that was so hard, fair dinkum!

I couldn’t walk for ages. But I remember the old classical clown who taught me, he was everything you would expect from the clowns years back.

He lived alone in a caravan, his own world, quiet, aged, but when the makeup came on, a rejuvenation of excess in life, of joy, silliness and this moment is to be seized and cherished.

Then, years later, the lions! I forget what circus it was, but they asked me to hold the ring while a lion, a very big lion, jumped through.

There in the front row was mum and my girl, I was somewhat bemused as to what mum would say if I was eaten by Kimba.

As I walked through the tent to my place on a high platform, the tamer said: “Look, you may want to do something silly for publicity, I suggest you don’t.”

I said to him: “I’m already doing something silly”.

The lions came, have you ever seen the size of their heads, bigger than the MetroGoldwyn-mayer one on a drive-in screen.

There’s me, standing like a dill with a ring with newspaper across it, hoping some wild, giant killing machine feels an uncontrollable urge to jump through it.

Well the lion looked ahead, I’m thinking jump kitty, please, instead, he turned, leant toward me, and roared, inches from me. He then – luckily – leapt through.

The tamer was laughing, and said: “Gee mate, he liked you.”

Horrified, I said: “Doesn’t he do that every time?” To which, through tears, he added: “Never seen him do that before”.

It’s the last few days of the Great Moscow Circus, and I will not be in the quaintly named Wheel of Death. A great experience, the magic of “live” entertainment.

Happy days.