I was about 14 or 15 I think, and we lived in our family home in St.Albans. The garden at that house was amazing, not so much wide, but 100 foot long, plenty of room to run around and play with my two brothers and two sisters, swings, climbing frames etc... (even a goat and a pony at one stage).
I was at the age when I HATED practicing - (Well come on, I was a teenager, and I had FAR more important things to do ie watch telly, hang out with mates, change my outfit 10 times a day :)
I was very much into my sports at that age, and running was a favourite of mine.
Dad, fed up of my constant moaning about practice, decided to cut me a deal.
"Right Lisa-lee, I'll make a bet with you. I will race you from the bottom of the garden to the top. If you win, you can have the day off practice tomorrow".
WHAT!!!??? I'm well in here I thought, how easy...... Hahahahaha
"But...... If I win, you do half an hour extra" says dad.
"Yeah alright dad" I said (snigger snigger, he obviously has no idea how good I am at sprinting, and he's not exactly in his prime, totally got this!).
Race On!

On your marks..... get set... GO!!!!

so off we went, well...... Off HE went, like a bullet. I could not believe it!!!! But I did learn a very important lesson that day.

Never accept a bet from dad, he doesn't bet unless he knows he'll win. Oh, and I played an extra half an hour the next day.