Back in the day, what every child in Kent wanted was an attraction which at least looked like it was on nodding terms with the big all-singing, all-dancing theme parks in the States.

Dreamland in Margate, for a while in the early 1980s, ticked the box quite nicely. It wasn’t quite the same, but given you could get there without remortgaging your house, it was good enough.

But at the other end of the county there was something which emulated it for sheer visual appeal and thrill-seeking delights.

Fantaseas was a water park which oozed ‘must-visit’ allure for the young and, no doubt, young at heart.

It was a seething mass of brightly coloured water chutes and tunnels and, back then in the late 1980s, early 1990s, a rare water-based attraction. Yes, we have the sea surrounding this fine county of ours, but who wanted to risk bumping into a turd when taking a dip in our oceans? Not me, that was for sure.

So, instead, we went to Fantaseas which, it must be said, was not for the faint of heart either.

In an era before all risk was surgically removed from pretty much all attractions, Fantaseas took a more laid back approach. It deployed, it seemed to me, very much a ‘try not to drown if you can help it’ attitude.

And that was by no means a given.

There was – I forget its name – a long sort of ‘lazy river’ ride which was particularly memorable. You sat in an inflatable ring and travelled from swirling pool to the next through a maze of chutes.

The only issue was as you arrived in the swirling pool, so did many others. I clearly remember tumbling off my ring and finding myself stuck under a seething mass of rings and people as I tried to break out for a delicious gulp of fresh air. It was, just briefly, terrifying, but wow what a buzz when you were a teenager.

Given the ‘pay once, ride all day’ approach, such near-death experiences didn’t deter me. I just headed back up to the top to have another go. Everyone did.

There were also a selection of chutes for the daredevils – which, dear reader, I fear I was not.

These seemed to be steep and sharp and which flung you into a deep pool. The centrepiece was one in which you entered an entirely black, near vertical chute before tumbling into the air and the water below. It was real ‘take your life into your hands’ stuff. On reflection, I wish I’d had the guts to do it. It looked utterly thrilling.

Either there was a cafe overlooking it or we were simply transfixed watching folk plummet, scream and splash.

Sadly, though busy during weekends and school holidays, there was – perhaps not entirely surprisingly – a distinct lack of custom when us school kids at the time were in lessons. Opened in 1989 it was shutdown in 1992. Today, inevitably, it is a housing estate.

It was a totally memorable day out – one of those which has stayed with me for the decades which have since flown past at such an alarming rate. The fact its relatively short life burned into the memory of so many who visited is a testament to its ability to deliver just what you wanted – death-defying adventure.

Yes, it probably wouldn’t be allowed today, but what a ride while it lasted; the county has not seen its like since.