There are some skills that no one can argue are useful in life - the ability to drive, to cook, to sew, to put up shelves - but dangling from a Big Top, suspended 50ft in the air with a rope wrapped around your thighs is probably not one of them.

An invitation landed on my desk to visit the NoFit State Circus, which has pitched up in Kensington Meadows, Bath, to learn a few circus skills. Guffaws rattled around the Chronicle newsroom that I was indeed running off to join the circus.

NoFit State is visiting Bath as part of the Fringe Festival and has already been ranked up there with other performing greats such as Cirque du Soleil and Cirque Eloize.

Its spaceship-style tent causes a stir wherever they go, with some residents even calling the Army out to investigate.

Funded by the Arts Council, it is the UK’s leading contemporary circus using mixed media and breathtaking stunts.

Off I trundle to find out what all the fuss is about.

The cast welcomes me, and I'm a little nervous about the wicked glints in their eyes - perhaps we'll start off with juggling, I think, and then a bit of clown work.

"How about a bit of bungee?" someone suggests, and before I can protest, the crew descend on me, waving straps and hooks and ropes.

"Oh my god, whatamidoing?" runs through my head over and over again. I'm paralysed with fear.

They attach a harness around my hips and tighten it so it squeezes the fat from my bottom and thighs into pockets between the straps. But this is not a time for vanity - that unflattering contraption is the difference between being elegantly suspended from 50ft and lying splattered on the floor.

Two rubber band type ropes hanging from the ceiling are clipped to either side of the harness and I’m hoisted 10ft off the ground.

Now it's up to me to bounce, apparently, but I can't move - so a performer called Barnz grabs my legs and gives a good yank.

Well, that's done the trick, and up and down I go, like a crazed Zebedee, ricocheting all over the ring.

It's like being in one of those baby bouncers, and actually really rather good fun.

Another performer, Lyn, coaxes me to do a forward somersault. I'm really scared that turning upside down will make me slip out of the harness, but now a crowd has gathered and it feels like I'm back in the playground being dared to smoke - I know it's dangerous, but that's half the appeal.

I reach forward, point my toes and spin over. The crowd cheers and, wow, what a rush.

After that, I'm unstoppable. I'm doing double somersaults and backflips and bouncing all over the place, narrowly missing bits of scaffolding, until an athletic young Barnz has to grab me by the ankles and pull me down.

But I've got adrenalin pumping through my veins. "Let me try something else," I beg and so it's off to the ropes.

This is really hard. I lie down on a crash mat, Lyn twists a rope around my thighs and I'm winched off the ground.

I stretch out my arms and strike my best circus pose, but the rope is digging into and my thighs and my legs start to go a bit wobbly - I can't do this for long, and no way is it as fun as the bungee jumping.

Then, Lyn wraps herself up in the rope and shows me how strong she is - grabbing my arms and dangling me above the mat - how can she hold the weight of two people when I can’t even lift myself?

Finally, I'm given a pop at the hoop. After being clipped on with a safety harness I perch on the hoop like one of those toy parrots you can win at the fair and, with the other end of the rope tied to Barnz, I'm pulled right to the pinnacle of the Big Top.

It's high, but I'm secretly thrilled to be doing something so risky on an otherwise mundane Wednesday night.

Lyn's showed me some tricks on the ground, and it's not long before I'm dangling by my legs from the hoop, spinning round and round, 50ft off the ground.

Lynn shouts: "You're a natural," and for a moment I believe her - I really, really don't want to leave.

I did things that evening that I never thought I'd have the courage to do and discovered a new part of me - the circus performing sexy Abby who hangs from ropes and performs daring feats at the drop of a top hat.

I'm looking into how much it's going to cost to install some equipment in my living room - if anyone's got a spare feathered headdress and sequined Lycra bodysuit I'd be more than interested.

The next morning, I'm covered in bruises, which secretly I'm rather proud of - a testament to my adventure - and can't wait to go back and watch the performers in action, to see how it really should be done.