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"As a child, I first learned the straddle technique," he said. "That was what my role models were using - the world record holder of the time, , and the American . You'd go over the bar on your belly.

"My coaches also taught me the scissors style, which is one of the oldest styles and was used more than 100 years ago. It wasn't as efficient as the straddle, but I was very attracted to it, and it was what I competed with until I reached high school aged 16.

"My coach took me aside and tried to convince me of the disadvantages of the scissors, but I was having the hardest time. I didn't feel very co-ordinated, and I wasn't getting the results.

"Towards the end of the season I asked if I could go back to the scissors, my old style. He said, 'Well, don't give up, but try it if you want'.

"So at the next meet I started to transform the scissors and made it more efficient -instead of sitting upright so my centre of gravity was half a foot above the bar, I started to lift my hips up. As a reaction, my shoulders and head went back too. By the end of that day I was clearing the bar flat on my back, and I'd improved by 15cm.

"That really encouraged me. My coach and I then went away and watched old films of high jump styles to see if there was anything I could adapt, but there was nothing with the same mechanics. So I stuck with it for two years, and by the time I finished high school at the age of 18, I was completely rotating my shoulders, going over the bar backwards and in an arch."

Fosbury won the 1968 National Collegiate title with his new technique, and then the US Olympic trials the same year.

"The other jumpers were surprised to see my results improve, but not to the point where they were going to give up their techniques they'd been practising for years," he recalled.

"The judges were reading through the rule-book to verify whether it was legal, but it was - I was still taking off on one foot. As for the spectators, they absolutely enjoyed it. Quite honestly, at many of the competitions that I went to as I travelled around the States, people were laughing. It really was a hoot."

Fosbury took his Flop to the later that summer and blew away both his rivals and the existing Olympic record. By the time of the Munich Olympics four years later, more than three-quarters of his fellow competitors had switched to his new technique.

"It was simply my mind pushing my body to get over the bar," he said. "My mind wanted to win, and my body simply had to keep up. It was intuitive and instinctive evolution and style. I didn't set out to change the event; I was just searching for the best way for me.

"The only criticism that came up after my victory at the Olympics was a medical one. Several doctors were very concerned that young jumpers might be injured. Fortunately at the same time we started jumping into foam pits, rather than sand or sawdust. The pits became much safer, and that freed us up to land on our backs and not worry about it."

After those heady memories, I was expecting Dick to tail off a touch when I brought up my own laughable ambition, or at least be a little patronising. Not a bit of it.

"I think it's terrific!" he said, in his sing-a-long West Coast accent. "That's a great ambition to have, doing all 10 events, and I think it's going to be great. Hopefully I can assist you and give you some pointers."

There was a brief pause from my end as I considered changing my name to Tom Fosdyce, or whether Fosbury Fordyce would be an appropriate name for my first-born son, but Dick was in full flow.

"First of all I teach jumpers to use the scissors style, which is what I began with and transformed into the flop technique. Scissors teaches you to keep your body upright and keep your head and shoulders positioned in line with your torso, so you're going in an upward motion as you take off.

"Start off with the bar low. The first bad habit that's hard to break is that the jumper throws their head into the bar and aims low. As you start to develop your technique and aim to clear your own height, if you throw your head into it you'll knock the bar off before you leave the ground.

"You also need to lean inwards on the curve - that's the key element to having your body in the right place on the take-off. Lean towards the centre of the radius."

I ask him what he thinks is an achievable height for me to clear. Earlier in the day I'd had been shocked to discover that my friend and colleague Ben Dirs had not only once cleared 1.60m but also - albeit briefly - been London borough of Havering high-jump champion.

I know. That's exactly what I thought.

"Well, it depends on what your conditioning is, but for your age you could clear between 1.65m and 1.80m," said Dick. "That would be a great achievement. Because you're doing the decathlon, you'll have a limited amount of jumps, but if you can clear that it'll be a very good mark for you - I'd consider that a success."

Fosbury's kind words are lodged in my brain as I stutter in towards the mat the next day.

That my clearances start at one metre helps keep my metaphorical feet on the ground. Half the problem is that I'm trying to copy Dick without doing any of the basics - throwing my arms and shoulders backwards without first getting any upwards leap.

"Hmmm. We were correct before - you don't have any natural spring," says coach Ian Grant.

This is a hammer blow. Although I'd been told this at my first assessment session, I'd hoped it had been a misreading, a mere blip caused by general weariness or heavy shorts.

No natural spring? Truly I feel unmanned. Only if I'd been told that I lacked natural co-ordination could I feel any worse.

Ian tells me to drive my inside knee up and forward so my hips lift higher. After a few clatters through the bar, it starts to make a difference. Ten leaps later I'm getting over 1.30m, although it's unlikely that anyone will be interviewing me about the Fordyce Flop in 40 years time.

On a well-known video-sharing website, there's some of 2004 Olympic champion Stefan Holm in training. I'd like to say I aspire to his springiness, but I'm not even fit to touch his old-school flappy shorts.

There is just time at the end for a little shot put. Decathlon is nothing if not demanding, and the weeks are slipping by until my one-hour competition on 30 August.

The bad news is that the shot seems to have got heavier since I first tried it. The good is that the correct technique gradually re-emerges from my confused muscle memory.

Half-an-hour's work gets me to the point where throws of around 7.30m become the average rather than the exception. Once we get a shuffle in too, rather than just going from a static position, we might be able to get close to 9m.

Up in one event, down in another. Welcome to the unsettling balancing act that is decathlon.

PS There's been some chat on this blog recently from people who, appetites whetted, fancy giving the high jump/javelin/pole vault a go themselves. It's a fine notion - have a look at the for your nearest club, and let me know how you get on...