In New Zealand, a 21-year-old girl from Kidderminster drowned while bodysurfing down some tempestuous rapids.
In Australia, a British doctor died after his jet ski ploughed into a ship's anchor chain.
From Princess Anne's Gatcombe estate, we heard news of a worker who'd died of chest injuries after his quad bike rolled over.
And finally came the tragic story of a young boy who, mercifully, is now showing some signs of improvement after being paralysed in a trampoline accident.
Doubtless, as a result of all this tragedy, pain and suffering, someone in a high-visibility vest and hard hat is now beavering away trying to work out how to prevent such accidents happening again.
What a waste of time. They may as well try to sweep air into a pile.
The simple fact of the matter is this. Anyone who tries to raise their heart rate by putting a bit of excitement into their lives runs the risk of stopping it altogether.
If you try to make yourself feel more alive, you run the risk of making yourself feel more dead.
My children have a trampoline and often I watch, with what's left of my hair on end, as they perform spectacularly uncoordinated pre-teen backflips and rolls.
There's always a sense that it's going to end in tears, ambulances and mashed food for a while.
More than 11,000 people a year are injured on trampolines in Britain alone so should I insist my kids come inside and watch television instead?
It's much the same story when we're on holiday. They seem to spend most of their time in big rubber rings, being towed around the bay by speedboats at about four million miles per hour.
I've tried this and it's plainly a recipe for disaster. Just last year my lad was thrown from his ring and our heads came within an inch of one another, at a closing speed measurable only with the sort of equipment used for testing the velocity of solar winds.
By rights, I should have insisted we spent the rest of the holiday reading books by Charles Dickens and looking round museums. But the next day we were at it again.
This is because, without risk in our lives, we may as well be a table or a chair.
The BBC have even published a list of guidelines for people using trampolines. Remove jewellery. Children should always be supervised. Blah, blah, blah.
Trousers
Of course, we need Health And Safety to ensure that nuclear power stations are not being built by Bulgarian farm labourers and that the nation's pylons won't fall over.
I don't even mind if they warn us of the dangers of jet skiing.
But banning everything that's dangerous? No. And then no again.
Hundreds of middle-aged men drop dead on golf courses every year so do we ban golf? (Actually, yes, but that's another story.)
Thousands of teenagers get chlamydia every year so do we ban sex?
Worse still, last year two people were killed by their trousers. Maybe they were golfers who were dazzled to death by the tartan? It doesn't say. So should your strides come with a health warning? Should they be outlawed?
Or should we look at the death toll among normal people who want a bit of a thrill and remember this: Jet skiing is God's way of reminding you you're not a dung beetle.