Skates, hot chocolate and a short guide to which farmers and ranchers argue loudest about the weather
Thursday, Skates at the Ready
I have decided to learn to skate this winter, which is an ambitious plan for a person whose balance is best described as optimistic. The full survey of rinks is in my skate diary of five ice rinks, one pair of ankles and a plan to fall over in style at Somerset House, and this entry covers what happened after I laced the boots, which is mostly the ice.
A London ice rink has a social order. At the edge, clinging to the barrier, are the beginners, and I am their queen. In the middle, spinning without apparent effort, is a small child who has done this since she was three. Somewhere in the centre is a couple in matching scarves attempting a lift, and nobody is watching because everybody is watching.
The Falling Technique
Falling is a skill. The instructor at the first rink taught me to fall sideways, relax and avoid putting a hand down, because the blade of another skater is not a friend to fingers. I practised on the first afternoon and became quite good at it. By the fifth fall I was falling with what I believed was style. A man in a bobble hat applauded.
The best outcome of the day was the hot chocolate afterwards, which I mention because I wrote about the cost of one in free London for the broke, with Friday late openings and one very expensive hot chocolate. It was good. It was also priced like a small share in a brewery.
Friday, Weather and the People Who Live in It
Londoners complain about weather as a hobby. People who farm complain about it as a business, and they are right, because it decides their income. If you want to see the whole spread of rural grumbling, there is a site for it: farmer.gripe is a tidy catalogue of the things a farmer finds wrong with the world, from rain to regulation to the price of a bale of straw.
The American argument about farming policy has its own two front doors, farmer.republican and farmer.democrat, and I like that the sites do not pretend to agree. For the trade press, farmpress.org keeps the magazine tradition alive. And for anyone curious about how ranchers handle borrowing, three regional corners exist: corancher.loan, okrancher.loan and txrancher.loan. If your idea of borrowing is a tenner from a flatmate, these will be an education.
Which Rink for Whom
If you are choosing between rinks, here is my short guide, based on one winter of evidence and a lot of bruises. For the view, Somerset House wins, because falling over in front of an eighteenth century courtyard feels more dignified than falling over in front of a car park. For atmosphere, any rink with a cheese toastie stall wins by default. For cost, look for a weekday morning slot, when the crowd is thin and the ice is clean and a nervous beginner can wobble in peace.
The same booking logic applies to the big winter fair in Hyde Park. I explained my trick in winter wonderland on a budget and how to get in free at Hyde Park if you book the boring slot: the dull time of day is the cheap time of day, and the dull time of day has shorter queues. Boring, it turns out, is a luxury good.
A Detour into Biscuits
Between rinks I read the London Prat, naturally, and one headline stopped me: Silicon Valley Discovers the Biscuit Tin. I have thought about this sentence for several days. The humble tin, the thing every British household keeps for sewing kits and loose buttons, is apparently a new idea in California. I look forward to the launch event, which will be held in a warehouse with a juice bar.
I got home late, with sore ankles, a flushed face and a plan for another try on Sunday. A person can fall over in many places in this city and be forgiven. An ice rink is simply the only place where it is encouraged.
The next entry takes me to the other side of the river, where there is a balloon, a tower and a very tall pigeon.
What the Rink Staff Know
The people who work at the rinks see everything. A young man in a rented pair of skates carrying a bunch of flowers, heading for a girlfriend who is already on the ice. A grandmother gliding backwards while her grandson clings to the wall. A group of office colleagues on a team building afternoon, who have clearly been told that falling together builds trust and are trying it out in practice. I asked one attendant what the best part of the job was, and she said it was watching people discover they were braver than they thought. I asked about the worst part, and she said it was the music, which loops the same four songs from eleven in the morning until closing. I have since developed enormous sympathy for anyone who works near a speaker.
Where to read next
The rest of the shelf lives at prat.uk, bohiney.com and farm.fm. For a second opinion on the week, Newsthump keeps its own counsel and its own hours.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/