Blonde's Eye View: The rise of the adrenalin junkie

The Wharf, with its dominance of males, has always been testosterone rich, but it seems we also have more than our fair share of adrenalin.

It's a trend that may be born from the stag-do paintballing weekend, but it's not limited to the boys.

I know plenty of girls who happily fill their free time with coasteering and kitebuggying.

While I spent my weekend looking at scatter cushions in Waitrose and drinking tea under a blanket on the sofa, my mates have been busy hurling themselves off mountains tied to bits of elastic.

With regulations pouring down on the Wharf's companies, maybe our risk-taking residents need an outlet?

Or maybe those same risk takers would have been the first ones shimmying up mountains, trekking to the poles and discovering Machu Picchu, but someone else got there first.

Instead they have to be content with mimicking feats of human endeavour, by rolling down hills in large inflatable balls.

The adrenalin junkies give off a scent, and it doesn't take long before they group together and arrange competitive adventures.

Water cooler weekend reports are beginning to sound like a Top Gear episode. More frightening than the activities themselves, is the accompanying language.

On my recent (forced) skiing weekend I was repeatedly told by both sexes to "Man up!"

An awful phrase that suggests, when faced with discomfort one must turn green and sprout hulk muscles. Steroids anyone? It's objectionable on so many levels.

Anyway, it's a known fact, when the going gets tough, the tough get girlie.

I'm off for a massage.