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Before bed I had a bath and the milkiest maltiest drink I could stomach. It worked like elephant tranquiliser. I awoke to my alarm going off at 4.30am. I rang the special fiesta hotline which had been set up to stop us having to trek all the way to Ashton Court in vain a second time. The message cheerily said "the flight is CONFIRMED". Oh my god. This is it.

I drove down there with music blaring to drown out the fearful thoughts in my head. I parked up, looked up and the sky was clear. Balloonists were busy unpacking balloons, laughing and joking. I started to realise - people do this all the time for fun. How scary can it be? And, hot air balloons cost thousands of pounds. They wouldn't risk them crashing. Especially with the press on board. Talk about bad publicity.

Fiesta staff, balloonists, journalists and TV crew were munching cakes and pastries washed down with tea, but I couldn't have even stomached a glass of water. They tried to jolly me along and I made a big comedy performance of being scared. But in reality, I was bricking it.

Fiesta sponsors IKEA commissioned Cameron Balloons of Bedminster to make a special shape balloon and it was ready for its maiden flight. I'd been invited on board as a passenger because the fiesta staff thought two maidens together was "fitting".

As the giant burners inflated the balloon, I looked inside at the complex network of panels and vents and realised how much work goes into making a balloon. It's not just a hollow bag of air.

By this time, the sun was out and the sky was bright blue. When the balloon was up I was invited to clamber into the basket and I met the pilots, Stuart and Pete, and fellow first-time passenger John. They were all friendly and, sensing my nerves, the pilots blinded me with science about where to stand when we landed and what not to touch. This was a great distraction technique at a moment when I could so easily have jumped out of the basket and driven home.

My heart was beating so hard in my chest I was convinced others could hear it. I said a little prayer in my head, just in case anyone was listening. I was waiting for the official go-ahead so I could clench everything ready for take off, with one hand on the sick-bag in my pocket.

But before that, the balloon had to be moved slightly. I had no idea what this meant. Burly men pushing it across the dewy grass? Wrong. A quick blast from the burners and we lifted ever so gently off the ground a few feet. It took my breath away, I was totally unprepared and my mouth fell open. I waited for my stomach to flip, for my brain to buzz - but it didn't happen. I felt strangely calm.

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