HOW I BECAME A REAL MAN ON THE EVE OF NEW YEAR'S EVE

What do you mean it doesn't look like a very big bridge? Close up, it's massive

I'm no camper. I don't do flappy walls. Can't abide a dodgy loo. If I'm not driving, I'll get car-sick after about 4 and a half consecutive corners. But this year I said, "To hell with it!" and we did 6 nights in a tent. I'm not telling where. I've been sworn to secrecy. Apparently if the location gets out, everyone will go there and there'll be casinos and skyscrapers and gelato shops before you know it. 

Wouldn't have minded a gelato or two, to be honest. Mr Whippy did turn up one day, but he was on the other side of the bridge and it was hot and whoever went and got the ice creams would have ended up with snowfreeze dribbling off their elbows by the time they were halfway back. That bridge is integral to this particular story though. In fact, the bridge IS the story.

What is it that makes us want to jump off things? Cliffs, aeroplanes, bridges. We just love it, don't we? You build a perfectly functional footbridge to get from one part of Secret Location to another, and you can't walk over it for all the idiots queued up to hurl themselves off it.

You don't have to spend much time in Secret Location before it becomes clear bridge jumping is quite the thing to do. Men, women, children, pets - everyone's at it. The trick seems to be getting the tide right, then you can just float down the estuary to your waiting beach towel. (And a crowd of admiring bridge jump fans, presumably)

The trouble with Quite-the-Things-To-Do is sooner or later someone suggests you go off and do them. Regardless, I'm not the kind of guy who does things just because everyone else is. Frankly, I'm the opposite of that guy. Ordinarily I'm the guy who sees holiday-makers plummeting from a bridge and suggests a climb UP it.

But bridge jumping isn't just any old trend. It's one of those right-of-passage activities - like getting your license or losing your virginity. You wouldn't want word to get out you didn't jump when everybody else did. What kind of incredible wuss would you be then?

You've got the ever-present parent factor as well, of course. It's not just your reputation you're trying to protect, you've got to set an example for the kids too. Admittedly, jumping from a bridge may not seem like the kind example you would normally set, but somehow this ended up being one of those feel-the-fear-and-do-it-anyway situations that's supposed to teach us a valuable lesson about life. And possibly about gravity. And water safety, maybe.

The point is, it was the day before New Year's Eve and I'd just survived a flooded tent the night before, so I was probably already feeling pretty Man VS Wild.

It's a weird sensation, walking the path to your potential watery grave. Especially because you can't wear your jandals. Or your hat. Or your sunglasses. I felt strangely naked. Perhaps I should have kept my rash vest on. Looking at the photos, I definitely should have kept my rash vest on.

Then suddenly I'd done it. Well, more specifically, suddenly Craig had done it. He just got there and jumped straight off. What a jerk. So obviously I had to too. Why we had to go back and do it a second time still doesn't really make much sense to me, but presumably it makes me twice as tough. Manliness well and truly intact I can now hold my head high. Turns out it's not really that hard to jump off a bridge. Swimming across a harbour though? That's a whole other story...

Really regretting my wardrobe choice. And my beer gut