IT doesn't take much to give me a thrill - the sight of an unopened box of Cadbury's or 50p off my favourite Sainsbury's pizza is usually sufficient.

So, call me a wimp, but I cannot understand why other people need to satisfy their cravings for excitement by sledging down Everest on a tea tray or

bungee jumping off the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

I'm told it has something to do with the resulting rush of adrenaline, which

some bungee aficionados say is better than sex.

That may or may not be true - but only if you've had experience of both

types of recreational activity, of course. As the few bungee enthusiasts I've seen had all the allure of a thick woolly sock, I would calculate their attempts at successful mating as nil.

Yet, despite all my reservations, increasing numbers of folk seem to want to risk their necks in such bizarre activities (no, not sex) and pay large sums of money for the privilege.

Last weekend I went to an Adventure Holiday Travel Show - OK, I had free

tickets and it was raining. I dressed appropriately - anorak with toggles, rucksack, Timberland boots.

Inside the hall there were stands where brawny types wearing shorts and suntans explained the pleasures of free-falling from an aircraft, crawling along a nine-inch high tunnel several hundred feet below ground and riding the rapids on some furious river.

Now there I do have first-hand experience. Yes, even a wimp has its moment of glory but, I can assure you, it will never, ever, be repeated.

It happened accidentally, of course. Yes, I agreed to go, but I was an innocent in those days and had absolutely no idea of what I was getting myself into - even when I had to sign an indemnity form absolving anyone of any blame if I should be killed or injured.

We were in Montreal when we discovered that some of the 'liveliest' rapids in Canada could be found about 20 minutes down river from the city centre.

Specially made lightweight boats would take visitors for a spin, quite literally, throughout the day. We booked our places, with the exception of one sensible friend who ignored taunts of 'wimp' and 'cissy' and went to the Botanical Gardens instead.

It's true I became slightly apprehensive when we were instructed to strip down to our underwear and wear heavy plastic suits and boots, but hey! I was no chicken.

The next hour was, without doubt, THE most frightening experience of my

life. The first ten minutes of the ride were deceptively smooth, then the boat started to bump against angry little waves that grew in stature and force as we went further down river.

Eventually we were thrown into a series of whirlpools while the ferocious water slapped us across our faces and poured into our rubber suits.

The boat rode the river like a roller coaster and I, a non-swimmer, seriously thought my time had come.

My friends, obvious adrenaline junkies, thought it was fantastic. They

screamed and yelled their approval and when we returned insisted on going back for seconds.

I never did ask them if it was better than sex . . .

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.