Having recovered from the broken neck through just falling down stairs I was mildly horrified at this picture from the Yorkshire Post in 2011 of me near the top of the hairy scary ladder during the painting of the outside of the water tank. To my left is the home-made cradle that was my workplace for the six months that it took to paint the tank. I hasten to add that the cradle was secured to the tower with never less less than five chains and I wore a harness so that in the unlikely event of a fall I would only have fallen a couple of feet. Still - never again!
I, like most, had a fear of heights which I learnt to overcome and I am quietly proud of that.
As a young PC in the centre of Bradford in the 1960s I from time to time encountered lead-thieves on the roofs of mills and city centre high buildings. The fire brigade would attend with their Snorkels - giant elevated hydraulic platforms for fire fighting at height. Burglars however were a matter for the police and I now confess I lived in fear of being the chosen one (by the sergeant or inspector) to go aloft and make the arrest. Mercifully for my self esteem it was never me. There are times in life when you just cannot chicken-out on front of colleagues.
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