I stayed at a small hotel about 15 minutes from the drop zone, as it would have taken nearly two hours to drive there from home. I decided to do that in the dark and the rain instead in the night. Cleverclogs. And awoke to…thick FOG! I reported at 8am, and waited till noon to get to jump. We all had to mill about for a couple of hours for the fog to lift and clear. My it was cold on the ground!!

Then I got called to the ‘manifest hut’ to meet my instructor who will be attached to me for my tandem jump. He is one Glen, formerly of Brentford and Isleworth! He’s even been inside the Upper School of the Royal Ballet, where I came to train originally! The apples don’t fall far from the tree. He’s deffo not the hunk I was hoping for, smelled of ciggies, but has 36 years of experience jumping out of planes into thin air. Anyway Glen kitted me up in a cold hangar: jumpsuit, harness, helmet, gloves and goggles – he carries the 4 stone chute in addition.

A short walk on the tarmac , practising my wave at my cameraman Eamonn, and we boarded a tiny plane, and sat like ducks, straddling a bench either side of the cabin in two rows, really really close to each other, BACKWARDS! Never flown backwards before – try telling them that on Easyjet Speedy Boarding! It took about 20 minutes to climb to 13,000 feet. The inflight entertainment consisted of my instructor attaching me to him, leather helmet and goggles fitted, some raucous joking between instructors (we were about 20 in the tiny plane), and the only nuts passed round were the lot of us about to hurl ourselves out of the aircraft.

At 13,000 feet the doors opened. And the camermen were the first to leap out. They literally dropped out – one second, and they were like, GONE! By this time my smile was so wide I think folks would think I’ve overdone the botox. But my golly miss molly – as my moment came – I was literally sitting in my instructor’s lap at this point(!) – I stuck my legs straight out beyond the edge, arms crossed over my chest, leaned back against Glen as instructed, even wider cheesy grin at cameraman, who was clutching the edges on the outside of the plane by now – and then: time suspended, dead silence – WAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Hurtling like rocks straight down towards earth. You know those moments when you have a falling sensation in dreams? Well, multiply that by a hundred and speed it up. I was thinking “WHAT HAVE I DONE??!!” but it was already too late.

I never closed my eyes, not once; and when I knew we were going to spin and spin, I anticipated where my gaze would end, to keep focus and stop getting dizzy. Elementary ballet training when doing pirouettes. That awful moment of the first fall lasted literally a few seconds. Then it was a sharp tap on my shoulders and I flung my arms out to assume the free fall position, like a star, like a very big autumn leaf not floating in the sky but dropping like a stone. It was WONDERFUL! Truly like the flying I was hoping to experience. I saw my dedicated cameraman then, directly opposite me, grinning and waving. So I grinned and waved and thumbs-upped like an idiot. I fell 8000 feet in 45 seconds.

Before I knew it, another sharp tap and the chute broke forth, and we were suddenly jerked upwards into a much slowly speed of descent. Mind you, it was still fast; and 5000 feet is still very very high up! I was given a go at parachute driving – pull left to go left, pull right to go right. But the moment you pull, you bank very sharply and the speed picks up. That was scary too! But in the main, I danced my way down – assuming little arabesques and mermaid poses, swiftly approached the drop zone, and finally had both legs raised high up in front, so the instructor’s feet landed first, then mine. It was all over in about 5-6 minutes.

My adrenaline was running so high, I caught myself driving home at 100mph for a few seconds. Woopsie.
Was I scared? Poopless.
Will I do it again? DU-UH! YEAHHH!

To all of you who sponsored my jump today, thank you so much. Proceeds will be split between St Mungo’s and Acton Homeless Concern, our two referral agencies who send our homeless guests to us. I hope you feel this is a worthy cause to support.

And it gave me the pleasure of free airmiles as well – I was flying free, like a little bird today. So thank you!

Time for a true story… are you sitting comfortably? Tough, I’m starting anyway…

Once upon a very long time ago, there was an ordinary girl on a train. Everyday the girl-on-the-train looked out for the handsome boy-on-the-train and daydreamed about all sorts of things that a handsome boy and an ordinary girl could do together on a train and other more stationary locations. The girl never spoke to the boy, and the boy never noticed the girl. It seemed that even though they caught the same train, every day at the same time, and got off at the same stop, their tracks were never destined to cross.

However, on Valentine’s Day the ordinary girl decided to take destiny in to her own hands. She made the handsome boy a special card and inside it she wrote him a special poem. (I know you’re thinking why am I reading this two-fingers-down-the-throat rubbish? Bear with me.) She didn’t sign it. But, as an after thought, she slipped her phone number inside the envelope and packaged it up with a red ribbon. In a moment of wild bravery and passionate hope she made her best friend leave it on the windscreen of his car. (A handsome racing green MGB, in case you’re wondering.)

But he didn’t phone. Valentine’s Day came and went. The ordinary girl consoled herself with Biarritz chocolates and a video of Pretty Woman. Still nothing happened. The handsome boy never got on the train again and the ordinary girl started to wonder if she had imagined him into life.

Then one evening in March, when the ordinary girl had quite forgot about being brave or passionate, there was a phone call. Yes, you’ve guessed it – from the handsome boy.

‘I liked your card,’ he said, ‘and your poem. I’m sorry for not phoning sooner, but I’ve been away at sea. Would you like to go out for dinner?’

Here endeth today’s lesson. So, don’t wait for fate to pull into your station… be brave and bold and daring. Build your own train track; the stops you make, the sights you see, and the passengers you meet are all up to you. Choo Choo!

What? You want to know what happened next? Well, you probably guessed that the ordinary girl was me.(well, d’oh!) I’d love to tell you that we lived happily ever after, but we didn’t. We did, however, share lots of pizzas, plenty of poems and rides in the racing green MGB and other stationary locations.

What did the card say? Oh, the poem? It went something like this:

If pigs could fly, if rain was dry, to you my love I’d swear.

I’d wait for you by your MGB, then my passions I’d declare.

But rain is definitely wet and I haven’t seen a pig fly yet,

So I’ll have to ask you to be mine, by giving you this secret valentine.

So what are you waiting for? Go on – do something dramatic for Valentine’s Day – I dare you… x

Photograph by FREDERICK DUPOUX

Today marks one year since the devastating earthquake hit Haiti, the land on which I was born.  The vibrant colorful island, full of life & love, that still runs through my veins to this day.

This post is in remembrance of those who needless lost their lives, for those who lost their families, their friends, their homes.  This post is for my family, who was in Port-au-Prince at the time and made it out visibly shaken, but grateful to be alive.

There’s a proverb that goes “with many hands, the burden isn’t heavy”.  I truly believe that with people putting their heart and energy (unselfishly) into the reconstruction, Haiti will not only prevail but prosper.

Sincere acknowledgement & appreciation goes to Pastor Amos Myrtil with the Duvivier Project, a sustainable farm initiative in Plaisance, Haiti and also to Randy Mont-Renaud of If Pigs Could Fly for the work being done in Mon Bouton.

I’ll leave you guys with a recipe for a dish renowned in Haïti (griot) and the relish that’s usually eaten with it (picklese).

GRIOT
Serves 6

In a large pot, add all the ingredients except for the oil.  Place in refrigerator and marinate overnight.  Add water to cover pork.  Cook marinated pork on medium head for about 1.5 hours.  Drain mixture.

Pour oil in the pot and fry the pork until brown and crusty on the outside but tender on the inside.

Serve with fried plantains and picklese.

PICKLESE*
6 Scotch bonnet peppers
2 cups shredded cabbage
1/2 cup shredded carrots
1/4 cup shredded onions
3 cups distilled white vinegar
4 whole cloves
1 tsp salt
8-10 peppercorns (optional)

Remove the stems of the peppers and slice them into 4-6 pieces (also remove the seeds if you’d like the relish a little less hot).  Place all the ingredients into a large jar and seal tightly.  Let sit for at least 24 hours…. longer is better.

*have fun with this recipe and make it your own.  The mouth knows what it wants.

It is unclear, as yet, how the pigs garnered the ability to fly, although speculation has focussed on the GM soya bean crops used in their feed. It is thought that the soya beans have caused a rogue genetic cell mutations in the pigs that result in bone spurs and associated skin flaps to grow from the spinal column and protrude out of the pig’s back. This anomaly is not unheard of in Mexican pigs and not, until late, considered to be a big problem; however, it is thought that farmers in isolated areas of the Veracruz region have selectively reared pigs with increasingly large spurs and that these spurs have somehow developed into fully functional wings.

Most alarmingly, however, is the chance for this particular ‘disease’ to be passed on to humans and subsequently, from human to human. The WHO, who have recently updated the pandemic alert from stage three to four have issued a three step way of dealing with the swine, simply: ‘CATCH IT. BIN IT. KILL IT.’

Despite the hyperbole surrounding this seemingly unbelievable occurrence, the Health secretary, Alan Johnson, has issued a statement assuring the British public that the likelihood of them sprouting wings themselves is low. “First, it is important to emphasise that in all cases outside Mexico, the symptoms of this illness are mild and all patients have made a full recovery.” As for those confirmed cases in the UK and elsewhere, symptoms have been kept surprisingly quiet, leading many to the conclusion that some humans have developed fully functional wings.

The government is understandably keen to play down the hysteria, issuing the following statement in the Commons yesterday afternoon. “It is too early to say whether the cases in Mexico and the US will lead to a pandemic. Scientists do not yet understand the extent to which cases in Mexico and the US are linked and are not yet able to make a complete assessment of the health implications of this new virus.”

One thing that is for certain though, is that with the seemingly unabated spread of these pigs, not all cases of human infection will be able to be kept under wraps, the ramifications of which, the government can’t fail to recognise. Flying humans would not only deal a crippling blow to the world’s airlines, as people shun flights in favour of a free and ‘green’ way of flying abroad, but more worryingly, border regulation will be rendered obsolete and developed nations such as the UK are likely to feel the brunt of heavy illegal immigration, as war ravaged lands and poor nations see mass exoduses.

It’s not known how this pandemic is going to play out, but if the rumours hold any truth, then we could be teetering on the brink of a global catastrophe, beyond all comparison.

"Well," he said, huffing exasperatedly. "I think it's high time pigs learnt to fly!"