I haven’t felt in much of a rush to progress but today I thought I’d give it go: a 2-way - that’s skydiving with someone else. Part of my trouble is the pressure I feel to not let the other person down. I don’t want to be crap. At 12,000 feet, he stands on the outside of the plane and I latch on. Frankly, it’s a coupling that feels a bit too intimate for strangers. But I’m doing as I’m told. In fact, I’m so concerned about doing exactly what he told me, I forget to think for myself. As he enters the air stream first, I have to make a position that levels us off. I do that but fail to release it. Pretty soon, and in freefall that’s a long time, we’re dropping vertically; all I can see is the sky and his increasingly concerned face. I am an anvil. I’m determined not to loose my grip and look like a wuss so I’m clinging on for grim death. Tic toc, down we go. He shakes his head. I nod in return. Tic toc. He shakes me. It’s all right, I return, I’ve got you. Tic toc. Then it dawns on me. I let go. I check my altimeter. Where’s all that height gone? It’s time to pull my ripcord. Actually, it was time to pull a couple of seconds ago. I pull. Done wonders for my confidence. And his.