Elephant ballerinas

I was so busy moaning about summer's last sigh, that I clean forgot about one of the most exciting things brought on by the advent of winter: ice-skating! Macklaine, Pangli and I rose excitedly on Sunday morning and gamboled over to Central Park to dapple in a bit of ice-skating. The fresh morning air had just the right amount of chill, the ice was glistening white, the park was quilted in autumn colours - the entire scene was absolutely gorgeous.

After an early breakfast at possibly the priciest and most touristy breakfast cafe on Fifth Av (we stumbled in accidentally and then were too embarrassed to beat the hasty retreat we should have beaten), we headed over to the ice rink in the park. Then there was the awkward moment of grimacing and grunting as we struggled to stuff our feet into the skate boots (Of all the frustrating flaws one can have, my feet are of different sizes, which means, inevitably, one foot gets squashed like a sardine). Then the even more awkward moment of hobbling from the lockers to the rink. And finally, we were on the ice.

Slipping, sliding, twirling, gliding - unfortunately a bit like elephant ballerinas - but it was just so exhilarating. After ten minutes on the rink, when we'd smoothed our techniques, perfected our glide and boosted our mutual confidence, we started getting experimental. I tried skating with my hands clasped behind my back, everyone else looked so elegant doing it. But I realised pretty immediately that this had the unanticipated result, for some inexplicable reason, of making me lose my momentum and come to a halt. Well, at least I don't need to crash into the wall now each time I want to stop.

And we tried skating backwards - which left (ahem) much to be desired, but also much to look forward to for next time. But atleast we know the methodology in theory if not practice, and as the wise philosophers I'm sure would confirm, there's a lot to be said for theory (if not practice).

Warning: watch out for the little knee-high torpedo kids that zip around - they haven't yet developed a distaste for crashing or falling.

To the little kid who almost fell: I'm sorry I spun around suddenly (hadn't intended to, but you'll learn that sometimes in life you just don't have control) and even more sorry I almost lost my balance, scaring the daylights out of you and almost making you fall. I'm glad your daddy was there to hold you up, otherwise would have been a bit embarrassing for the both of us.

And I felt a bit cheated when I pulled off my skates and suddenly remembered I had to actually lift my feet to walk.

Can't wait to go again!