I dare you. If you knew me when I was younger you would know that was all it took to make me do things I probably shouldn’t have. That’s the reason I hold the dubious honour of doing a bungee jump at the Rand Easter Show. Not at some fabulous waterfall, or bridge or river …. over a slab of concrete. At a tacky annual agricultural and exhibition show. And I really shouldn’t mention the car my friends and I borrowed and crashed at 15. The car belonging to my friend’s father. That I drove into a restaurant wall. And only because the boys in class said we’d never dare. I realised today that those three words still do it for me. Sneaky B took this of me this am. And no I’m not meditating Jo. Some of you won’t get the humour, but those who shared a boardroom table with me, you will. And those of you who like me, until I came to Australia, have never ever cleaned your own kitchen floor on your hands and knees, you will. Those of you who know I value honesty above most things, but still seem to need to keep up appearances, you will. B never thought I’d share this. Not exactly a good look. The I dare you was implied. Damn I am a sucker. But, you should see my floor.