Me, Dumbo and pride really does come before a fall

It was all going so well. There we were in Disneyland Paris, celebrating the launch of the Magical Moments Festival. We were having a brilliant time going on our favourite rides (including Tower of Terror and Toy Story Parachutes), star spotting (Duncan and Simon from Blue, hubba hubba) and cackling hysterically. We’d all been given ‘magic’ luminous wands in preparation for the fireworks display later that evening.

Then some bright spark (OK, it might have been me) suggested we go on Dumbo The Flying Elephant. For once, as it was a special occasion, there was absolutely no queue. ‘There’s no queue,’ I screamed, running round the edge in the direction of a vacant pink elephant.

Unfortunately at that point I lost my footing and tripped up, wrapping my arm round a lamppost, and banging my nose and forehead on the ground.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ I said to a friendly passer-by who tried to help me up while others (they know who they are) stood by trying not to laugh.

Fortunately there was no *serious* damage done, only a bruised nose (I thought it was broken, actually) hurt pride and a mahoosive black and purple bruise on my left arm. My magic wand was a write-off.

It didn’t spoil my enjoyment of what was a really fabulous weekend. But as we told all the kids in our party, the moral of the story is, even when you’re desperate to go on Dumbo, always walk, don’t run.