Like a giant farting after a Sunday dinner

Its called the Master Blaster.

Let me describe it for you…

Firstly, in order to ‘ride’ the Master Blaster, one requires a circular inflatable tyre.  Rather like the ones they hand out after birth if piles followed the placenta, but much bigger.

Once you have been given a large, circular, inflatable tyre, you then have to climb the stairs to the height of three or four stories and then daintily lower your backside inside the large, circular, inflatable tyre.  To make this more complicated, you have to lower oneself into the ring in front of a team of giggling youths who snort louder with each question you put to the lifeguard.

“I’m not too old to go on this am I?.”

Snort.

“It won’t hurt will it?”

Snort

“Will someone come rescue me if I get stuck?.”

Snort, followed by a loud guffaw.

Then suddenly after a lot of wriggling, jiggling and ass shaking, you are inside the ring and a much younger and slimmer lifeguard is pushing the ring away from the sniggering youths and your experience on the Master Blaster has began.

Whoosh.

An explosion of water (like a giant farting after a sunday dinner) hits your behind and you fly upwards like a helium balloon that has just been let go.

(It was at this point that I let out my first scream and could still faintly make out a snort from the queue.)

The ring continues to soar upwards in an unnatural direction and you struggle to orientate yourself, then…

Wheeeee

You tip over the hill and start to descend, drops of water blinding you as they fly into your face, and the ring begins to twirl.  An image of how you must look briefly crosses your mind’s eye and you cringe.  No one wants to see an overweight mother of three, wedged into an oversized rubber ring. Whose face displays pure terror and whose cheeks are being whipped by their own wet hair as they spin round and round, whilst plunging down into what they are certain will be their untimely death.

Thank god it is a solo ride.

The descent starts to slow and then..

Whoosh.

A similar enema of water shoots into your jacksy and you are off upwards once more, knuckles white and lungs exhausted from yelling.

And so it continues, up and down, up and down, you briefly remember your son saying something about how this is the longest indoor waterside in the UK.  You wonder if he survived (clearly you made him go first).

Then comes the final shove.

A splurge of hard water forces you higher and higher, it is like the hill will never end, a mountain without a summit.  Then the tyre lurches forward, tips over an edge you didn’t even see and you feel actual air between your backside and the slide as the tyre hovers a moment suspended in mid air.  Then…

Wham…

You spiral downwards, finally coming to an abrupt stop in a pool of calm water.  You blink at the crowd who have gathered to see the woman behind the screams and have the decency to look embarrassed.  You snap a pointed ‘no’ at your eight year old who asks if you can go on again.

You reach dry land and resist the urge to bend over and kiss it, and then you finally extract your swimsuit from your butt crevice when the numbness abates.

That ladies and gentlemen, is the Master Blaster.

(And yes, I did eventually end up riding it twice!)

You can ride the Master Blaster at the Sandcastle water park in Blackpool as well as a whole host of other fantastic flumes. We spent the day at the park after enjoying meeting the Sandcastle mascot at our hotel, The Cliffs.  Despite spending much of the day terrified we had a terrific time.

 

I am so excited to be shortlisted in the Mad Blog Awards 2014 in two categories,

thanks to everyone who voted in the first stage

Best Writer and Most Entertaining,

if you would like Northernmum to win, please take a moment to vote here