An elephant on ice

A couple of weeks ago, Delta and I woke up with an unsuppressable urge to go ice skating. So there was nought to be done but to don our woolies and mosey on down to Central Park, where we could avail of the tree-lined ice rink.

I knew that Delta, having played hockey most of his life, would be a great skater. But nothing prepared me for the gazelle he turned into as soon as his feet touched the ice. Swooping, swishing, swaying and swirling amongst the crowds while I on the other hand, like an elephant on ice, had to focus all my energy on preventing my legs from getting entangled in each other.

As always, I was most amazed by the little kids on the rink, who torpedoed themselves in random directions (seemingly all aiming to take me down), with little regard for self or life. I thought it was quite cute.

Until, as was inevitable, one kid bumped right into me. "Oh!" I thought, but the kid was little affected. He bounced right off me, and simply changed his direction and hurtled off again towards another unsuspecting stranger. I, on the other hand, engaged in much unsteady teeter-tottering and precarious swaying, before I finally managed to steady myself by the sheer strength of luck.

But who goes ice skating for elegance anyway, eh?