The tendons in my forearms creak ominously as I swing from the tackle block of a giant crane, wondering if it's too late to get a real job. I can feel my face turning red with the effort, and regret a heavy breakfast as my grip slackens and my fingers pluck away one by one from the slick metal of the hook. Eventually, my meagre strength fails, and I fall... two feet to the ground. OK, so I wasn't going the full James Bond, but it's something I've always wanted to do, and we had a giant crane hanging around, so...
展开▼
