The day a space hopper came for my legs

Aloada Bobbins

I’m no longer 8 years old, indeed I haven’t been for quite sometime. By now my brain should be fully informed not to entertain such ridiculous, non-age appropriate notions. But no – my level of faddiness is equally matched to my competitiveness, resulting in my internal monologue shouting “Bring it on!” at any whiff of a victory dance!

One such scenario happened last Wednesday, when the weather was unusually dry for once on our annual school sports’ day. A range of activity stations had been set up, from the traditional sack races and obstacle courses to the more comical welly wanging and bum-shuffling. Something that all the children could enjoy, whether they were star athletes or less able in a sports arena.

And then there were space hoppers…

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