Skate London

Santa’s in town. And what does Santa like to do on a day off? Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? He likes to don a pair of skates, find a frozen lake, and go rounud and rounud in circles trying not to bump into children.

At least, I assume that’s what he does, for why else would our national monuments (Somerset House, the Tower of London, Natural History Museum, Hampton Court Palace) be turned into ice rinks every Christmas?

I usually get dragged along, and this year was no different, so again I found myself shakily mimicking a young deer at somerset house, whilst thirteen year old boys shot past doing somersaults and wowing the crowds. Why is it that once a year being able to ice-skate becomes cool? What do the ice-skaters do for the other 11 months? Practice? Dream about last year and plan their exploits for the coming season? And anyway, when you’re shoved in like sardines and have middle-aged women on their backs there ain’t much room for show-boating.

I have to admit, though, that there is a certain sense of wonder and seasonal joy about the skating in London. Somerset house is a beautiful surrounding to partake, and the aching shins and bruises seem somehow earnt. Although I must say, that for this year at least, it’s over. And I’m glad.