My grandfather was a grandmaster of tricks, tall tales and practical jokes.

As a small child I was caught out time and time again. Visits to my grandparents’ Pembrokeshire home always involved the risk that I would sit on a whoopee cushion or be startled by a fake caterpillar being pulled across the room on an invisible string.

One Easter I was reduced to tears because I couldn’t crack the top off my boiled egg… only to discover it was a fake egg made of a sugar shell and solid chocolate.

On another occasion I was horrified when Grampy held out a birds’ nest he had found in the hedge, complete with six tiny, blue, speckled eggs. He proceeded to eat the eggs raw. It was only when he began laughing that I realised they were actually chocolate mini eggs.

But the time of year I really had to watch my back was April Fools’ Day, which my grandfather would mark in spectacular fashion.

This was why, age six, I was to be found sitting on top of my garden climbing frame at 5 a.m. on April 1st.

The night before, my grandparents had arrived to stay with us. My grandfather let us know he had seen on the local news that the circus was going to be passing by our house very early the following morning.

My two younger sisters and I were so excited we could barely sleep. As soon as dawn broke the next day, we hurried downstairs in our nightdresses. We ran into the garden across the dew-soaked grass and shimmied up the climbing frame ladder.

The three of us perched on top, as this was the only vantage point from where we could view the road outside our house. We shivered in the cold, spring air, as we waited for the circus vehicles to begin passing by.

We sat, and sat, and sat a bit longer. We’d been sitting up there for around an hour when we heard chuckling behind us. “April Fool!” exclaimed Grampy, delighted that we had all fallen for the hoax.