AS the stench of diesel took over my senses and the roaring engine dulled the screams in my head I realised it was too late - backing out was no longer an option.

I am not a brave person. I am not a particularly adventurous person; in fact I am actually quite dull. So what made me volunteer to hurl myself out of a rickety plane at 10,000ft I will never know.

Suffering from a horrific fear of heights and aeroplanes, some mad part of me thought a skydive would perhaps cure both.

Offering to do the tandem jump back in March, I set about getting sponsorship and put June 23 to the back of my mind, not really believing it would ever come.

And until the morning of my adventure, my denial was so consuming I even managed to eat a chocolate brownie and drink two cups of tea before the terrifying feat.

Crawling out of bed at 5.45am, my parents and fiancé joined me for the journey to RAF Weston, in Bicester - the meeting point for the team of St Luke's adventurers.

The hospice, in Kenton Grange, Kenton, serves people in Brent and Harrow.

A registered charity, the hospice only gets a third of its funding from the NHS and is reliant on donations and fundraising to meet its £6,000-a-day costs.

The skydive was one of a number of organised events to mark St Luke's 20th year, raising money and awareness of the different services provided.

And I misguidedly thought jumping out of a plane would be the best way I could help.

Arriving at the airfield at 8am, my nerves began to mount as I waited for my name to be called.

I grew increasingly embarrassed as I realised many of the jumpers were double my age and were raring to go, whereas I just wanted to cry.

My tandem master, a 6ft 3ins hulk called Ian, laughed off my fears and said he had skydived thousands of times, but I found it hard to see the funny side of free-falling for 5,000ft.

Kitted out in a white and blue jumpsuit, Ian helped me into the harness that would attach me to him.

A silly hat, some unsightly goggles and sweaty leather gloves, topped off the outfit.

Seated in the plane, Ian continued to mouth words of encouragement all the way up to the top - but looking down at the beautiful scenery, it was all I could do to hold back the loud sobs burning the back of my throat.

With my head dangling out of the plane I thought my heart had stopped beating but before I had a chance to claw my way back into the plane we were hurtling through the clouds.

Everything looked white and fluffy as my head pounded with the pressure.

The sense of relief when we finally broke through the clouds to a sea of endless green fields was immense.

The parachute was released and the deafening wind silenced.

Needless to say the first words out of my mouth are not suitable for a family newspaper, but I felt like me again, even if I was still 5,000ft up.

The harness was painful, my muscles ached and my ears were blocked, but the journey down was breathtaking.

Landing was surprisingly easy, at only 5ft 2ins, my legs were still in the air as Ian stood up, but finally my ordeal was over.

Skydiving is an experience I will never forget and never repeat, but raising more than £600 has definitely been worth it.

It might be boring but my next charitable act will definitely be done with my feet firmly on the ground.

The services offered at St Luke's are completely free for all so donations, money from the ten charity shops and fundraising events help to keep it running.

To add to Sukhi's sponsorship, visit www.justgiving.com/sukhianand or telephone 020 8382 2000 to donate to the hospice directly.