The 50 List – A Father’s Heartfelt Message to his Daughter: Anything Is Possible. Nigel Holland

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СКАЧАТЬ how to complete my written work on that. Going to Harlington, therefore, would have meant not only bus rides and stairs and bullies but also the prospect of having to haul a heavy old-fashioned typewriter around to every classroom in the school – like some sort of roving correspondent. No, on balance, Martindale School it had to be. And, despite it being daunting to go somewhere so outside my experience, I remember actually being quite excited.

      My last day in primary school was mid-term for some reason, and for all the challenges I’d faced in coming to terms with my disability, my overwhelming sense – then and to this day – was that the vast majority of people were – and are – friendly and supportive. The friendships I’d formed there would give me the confidence to face whatever was next. My friends also gave me a leaving present to remember them by: a Timex watch, which the whole class had clubbed together to buy for me. I was so overwhelmed that it was one of only a few times in my life when I couldn’t physically get any words out.

      How I hope Ellie is similarly blessed.

      23 February 2012

      Mantra for the day: Lights! Camera! 50 List action!

      Prayer for the day: Don’t prang the Porsche.

       6.00 a.m.

      Everything to do with filming begins early. Everyone knows that. And I’m glad we all got an early night last night, because The One Show is no exception. Happily, it’s half-term, so the whole family can get involved. And as half-term days out go, I am definitely the current hero; days out don’t come better than this.

      We kick off at 7.15 a.m. at a place called Airkix in Milton Keynes, where we’ve driven, as instructed, to meet the film crew.

      ‘Will they actually say “action!” do you think?’ Amy wants to know, as we pull up and get out to greet them.

      None of us knows, but we’re hopeful. It’s certainly an impressive start. We’re met by the producer, Matt Ralph, the presenter, Lucy Seigle, as well as a research assistant (the one with all the notes and itineraries, presumably) and a runner, who I assume does any required running. (It’s all a bit manic, and to my shame – perhaps because the nerves have kicked in now – I don’t get either of their names. So, belatedly, apologies and thank you!)

      Greetings over, it’s time to get the day properly underway and film the first of today’s challenges: indoor skydiving. I have to keep pinching myself – I’m actually doing all these amazing things today! As I have been a thrill-seeker all my life, this is just about the best day out I can imagine, and I’m so grateful that The One Show has picked up on why I’m doing The 50 List: to show Ellie that if you really want to do something, then you shouldn’t let anything stand in your way – little inconveniences like CMT included.

      They’ve opened Airkix specially early (the power of Auntie Beeb, I guess) so that we can film before the day gets going properly and they can get their shots in the can – I’m already conversant with the correct lingo – without too many people wandering around.

      Numbers have swelled now; we’re also met by a cameraman and soundman. And once we’re all assembled, the runner immediately runs off to find some breakfast. She soon returns with an array of egg, bacon and sausage rolls. They smell delectable, but given what I’m going to be doing before long, I barely touch mine. Don’t want to bring it all back up again!

       7.30 a.m.

      Since Ellie’s been invited to try the skydiving too, she gets to sit in on our short pre-flight briefing. This seems to clinch it: despite her initial enthusiasm, the combination of cameras and sound booms and safety rules and jumpsuits conspires to make her change her mind – she’ll just watch. Which is fine. This is not about cajoling her to do things she doesn’t want to but just to let her know that, if she does want to do, she can. Which she might well do some day, if not this day, after watching me having a go at it.

      With me all kitted out in my flight suit, it’s time for my first interview with Lucy.

      ‘So, Nigel,’ she says, ‘why has this made your list?’

      Not for the chance to dress up like a superannuated Superman, obviously. ‘It’s a bit of a cliché,’ I tell her, ‘but you’re free as a bird up there. I’m out of my wheelchair. I’m not on my legs …’

      Which, as I say it, reminds me what an incredible feeling that will be. I know I’m not on my legs anyway – well, except when I’m in a swimming pool – but to be free of gravity for a few moments, to be supported by nothing but the airflow, for there to be no difference between what the instructor can do and what I can do – well, wow, just the thought of that is so liberating. I still feel nervous. But I know it’s in a good way.

       8.10 a.m.

      What a rush! The experience is incredible, as exhilarating as it is surreal. Basically, we ‘fly’ in a vertical wind tunnel, essentially a Perspex-bound room within a room. Once you’re shut in it, the sense that it’s a tunnel is even stronger; it has a mesh floor, below which is a 20-foot drop to the bottom. It’s down there that the ‘wind’ that will lift us is generated, in the form of a large chamber that will expel airflow at approximately 140 mph, while above us is another 30 feet or so of headroom. And the windflow – the air that will keep me aloft – is greater than any storm I’ve ever experienced.

      It feels amazing. I say ‘fly’ but what I’m really doing, once my instructor pulls me into position and we begin spinning upwards, is falling at terminal velocity. That’s the fastest speed at which a body can fall through the air towards the ground. Of course, I’m never going to hit the ground; that’s the point of the upward draught. Because the air is pushing me upwards I’m ‘falling’ for what feels like minutes at a time, my cheeks being moulded so that I feel as though I have a rubber face. It’s a powerful force; so much so that I have to wear goggles – without them my eyes would dry up like prunes. It’s also incredibly loud, despite the ear plugs I’ve been given. It really is an assault on all my senses.

      We come back down to earth, but in my head, I’m still floating. I can see Ellie outside, sitting on the viewing bench with Lisa, Matt and Amy. And I can see from my older two children’s faces that they would both so love to be me right now. I make a mental note: must find the time and the money to allow them to experience this for themselves. Not to mention Ellie, even though I can see she has no appetite for it – not right now, anyway. Her expression is as anxious as Matt’s and Amy’s are awed. But though I know it has scared her, seeing her dad whirling high above her head in thin air, I really hope one day she tries this for herself.

      Time to move on, though, and let someone else have a go. I can see a gaggle of new people now waiting, crammed into the flight room, all of them presumably thrill seekers just like me. Climbing back up into my wheelchair, I count around ten of them, and as I manoeuvre up to the seat I can’t resist it. ‘Brace yourselves,’ I quip, as they look on, in some confusion. ‘I didn’t need this thing before I went in there …’

       12.30 p.m.

      Arrive at Silverstone racetrack for the second of the challenges. The kids are in an ebullient mood.

      ‘They said “action!”’ says Matt. ‘They actually СКАЧАТЬ