Elaina James

Handmade skating necklace from CharacterCrafts.co.uk My second venture into the world of ice skating involved less laughter and a lot more fear.  I was seventeen years older and supposedly wiser, which failed to explain what had made me think that strapping two little bits of metal to my feet was ever a good idea. I pulled open the heavy metal door and, leaving the sunny spring day behind me, I stepped inside.  I stopped immediately.  That practical side of my ten year old self was now my predominant characteristic.  The door clanged shut behind me causing me to gasp as I swung round in surprise.  I wasn’t even on the ice year and I was a nervous wreck. I took a deep breath of the cool air which was heavily scented with Zambezi fumes and indistinguishable chemicals.  I tried to remind myself that I wanted to do this.  However as I forced my feet to shuffle forward it was hard to believe that it was true. Someone turned the stereo on and the Spice Girls...

I can still recall the first time that I went ice skating. I was about ten years old and it was a friend’s birthday. We were at that age where games of pass the parcel and picnics on the lounge carpet in the traditionally rainy British summer were no longer thrilling enough. Trips to the swimming pool and bowling alley were gradually becoming the norm for our parties, but a trip to the frozen world of an ice rink, well that was something else entirely.  My friends and I huddled together on the wooden benches, shivering in the unaccustomed cool climate, and yet basking in sheer delight. Even pulling on the ugly heavy hire boots somehow added to the fun. With my shoes stowed away behind the counter and my new footwear strapped awkwardly to my feet, I eagerly tottered across the rubber flooring towards the icy surface. I grabbed the handrail, cautiously stepped onto the ice and then... Nothing. My excitement and enthusiasm melted away in an instant, despite the freezing temperatu...