When I was at primary school, several times a year we would all walk up to church taking the scenic route through the park. Since this involved crossing a stream we kept a wooden plank hidden in the bushes which a couple of the more athletic Year 6 children would put into place after jumping the water. On the way back we were allowed 10 minutes to climb trees and hang upside down from monkey bars over the concrete-floored playground before walking the plank back to school.

Of course this kind of risky behaviour we now recognise as pure madness. The paramount importance of health and safety has become a truth universally acknowledged.

In my school, both tig and British bulldog are banned; children can’t go outside if the playground has so much as a light frost and no child can be sent unaccompanied to the office in case they have an accident en route and there’s no adult to assist them. The fact that no one so much as raises an eyebrow at these directives demonstrates how much things have changed. Even with our current stringent health and safety measures, many parents believe we’re still not doing enough. When a child in my class was hit on the leg playing hockey I had an irate parent demanding to know why I’d allowed the children to be armed with sticks.

I may roll my eyes but I’m not much better myself. While statistically children are probably in no greater danger than they’ve ever been, the fear of that danger has grown exponentially. I know that if I allow my eldest to pop to the corner shop or play out of view it is down to pure good fortune and not my judgement if she manages to return unscathed. As a middle class parent I know too much. I’ve seen too many news stories and filled in too many risk assessments so my kids take risks only in controlled environments: gym classes, brownies, Granny’s cooking.  

You’d think that a generation who have grown up under the safety conscious gaze of helicopter teachers and parents would plunge straight into the risky stuff as soon as they’re free to do so, but I’m not convinced they do.

My cousin (a graduate in her early twenties) has been telling me about the new year resolutions she and her friends are working through: January was meat free, February sugar free, March is alcohol free and the whole year – as far as I can tell – is pretty much fun free. I was discussing it with my sister who said the millennials in her city office are now more likely to hit the gym for extra marathon training on Friday night than congregate in the local bar (their latest craze is a course of super intense fitness classes where you agree to pay a penalty of £30 if you don’t attend).

I don’t get it. They’re at a stage in life where they’re finally free to pursue their passions and try out a few vices – an age where energy levels are high and the body bounces back from hangover after one coke and a packet of hula hoops and instead they’re doing squat thrusts at 5am and instagramming tofu burgers. 

Maybe it’s just arrested development and in 20 years there’ll be an influx of middle aged people skinny dipping and binge eating doughnuts. Or maybe smartphones really are the opium of the people and that will never happen. Either way, I’m not sure a life filled purely with health, safety and good sense is ultimately desirable.

As Freddie pointed out, who wants to live forever?

Jo Brighouse is a pseudonym for a teacher in the Midlands. She tweets @jo_brighouse