The first time Anton Von Ostendorf performed the legendary Triple Somersault in front of an audience he swung too hard, smashed into his catcher and broke the man's ribs. In the world of the circus, of course, you don't put it quite like that. "You say, I travelled the trick a little'," laughs the trapeze artist. "It took me a long time after that to just damn the torpedoes and let myself go, to realise that my trick is high enough and that if I do travel it my catcher is smart enough to get out of the way!"

Today Billy Smart's Circus arrives in town and Ostendorf's flying trapeze troupe, The Flying Bull Dancers, are the star attraction. The American quintet perform a genuinely jaw-dropping range of swings, jumps, dives and catches. Already a hit in their home country, this year the Circus Friends' Association declared them the best aerial act in Britain. Top catching flying trapeze acts are rare in Europe, making Ostendorf's a very hot commodity.

"If there were a hierarchy in the circus, wire-walkers and flying trapeze artists would probably be at the top," says the American. "It's an act that fills the whole tent, it's dangerous, it takes a lot of practice just to even do small tricks, and it's very difficult to perfect." Now a master of the triple somersault, Ostendorf caught his first after six months of practice - which, he admits, is pretty unheard of.

"I was a gymnast and a board diver and a dancer growing up," he explains. "My grandfather was a clown and dancer and he taught my brother and I ballet and tap. When I was 23 I had an opportunity to try the flying trapeze at a Club Med resort and I worked there for a year. I didn't have a coach - I just mimicked other people doing it from video tapes. I could already jump from 33 feet and flip and twist into water, and I had the ability to hang on a bar and swing around it. You smash those two together and add the grace and form you get from dance, and all of a sudden you're a trapeze artist."

The death-defying mystique of the triple somersault was established by the 1956 film Trapeze. But it's not the most difficult trick. "The other trick I do in the act is much rarer and more technically difficult to be honest," says Ostendorf. "It's two somersaults with a straight body position, and then two twists, one twist in each flip. "There's also the Passing Leap or the Double Passage which we all perform together, where there are two catchers and two flyers in the air at the same time. If we hit each other too hard and go into the net together on that it's bad news. But we've only ever hit each other hard twice."

And so here it was - the moment I had been dreading during all those sleepless nights. I was about to be hoisted up into the air by a cord attached to a belt round my waist. My heart was in my mouth as the cord tightened, my weight gradually lifting as the rig above creaked under the strain.

Understandably this was a rather worrying second or two, but before long I was completely off the ground, rising at a steady rate. I was told to grab hold of the cord while being pulled up to prevent the top half of my body flopping backwards. What I was not told though was how to deal with the incessant spinning as I was dangling God knows how high above certain death - I am rather proud to say there was no safety net.

The trapeze bar was at first nowhere near me, and so as I spun, gaining speed on each revolution, the bar was swung towards me, forcing me to grasp at it with a flailing arm. The words streaming through my mind as I missed the bar on my first attempt are unfortunately unprintable in a family newspaper, but relief washed over me as I managed to grab it on the second attempt.

I managed to turn the rest of my body around so I could grab hold of the bar with two hands, encouraging those in control of my safety lines to take some of the weight off the cord. The adrenaline must have been pumping as I hung there for what seemed like an age.

At the time I was rather comfortable hanging there, completely at the mercy of people I had never met before. I eventually let go and held back on to the cord as I was taken over to the silks, two pieces of cloth hanging from the ceiling which I had to hold on to for dear life as I was lifted up to the "clown step". Here I was able to see how sickeningly high up I was, with trapeze experts Brett Delport and Ronelle Veroger on either side of me, reassuring me all the way.

By now the sweat was pouring from my forehead and I realised just how strong these performers are. As I found out later Brett was born into the circus. He has done this all his life, yet he was more than understanding as I flailed about with as much grace as an elephant on stilts.

Eventually, back on safe ground, the adrenaline pumping through my body was forcing my hands to shake as if they had a mind of their own. Anton Von Ostendorf, the leader of the Bull Dancers trapeze team, said he had only started on the trapeze at the age of 23, although gymnastics had been his thing before that. He said: "The circus life is a good one. You get to meet people from all over, it is like a microcosm of the world in here. In this show alone there are about nine languages being spoken. The legend of running away to the circus still exists as well, but it's not quite as simple as that. It's a professional job and you have to be able to actually do something."

It would be patronising to say I now understand how difficult what they do is. All I did was hang there, what they do is inexplicable. Triple flying somersaults and a top catcher and a passing leap with two flyers and two catches are incomprehensible even when you see it happen.

It is a wonder the circus still exists, but hopefully it will remain as one of the most exciting and adventurous entertainment shows available for people of all ages.