Wheels on fire
Last year, both my daughters got into rollerblading, and I started to take them to a Roller Disco in the local sports centre. Lots of fun, and people of all ages and abilities, so after a few weeks I decided to have a go - despite my total lack of sporting prowess, balance or fitness. I dug out some beat up old blades that were in the garage, and wobbled around. My goal was simply to get a basic level of ability so I could go around with them, nothing more than that.

After a couple of sessions, I was beginning to get the hang of it, and in fact hadn't fallen over once. The skates were pretty much worn out, though, so I decided to get some better ones. A quick session on eBay sorted that, and I was quite looking forward to the next disco.

As usual, I set off for a few gentle circuits. Just as I was about to head back to the seats, I lost it - got into a flailing, windmilling move that was probably quite funny to watch, then my not inconsiderable bulk yielded to gravity and crashed to the floor, like a -- well, like an old fat bloke who's in denial about his age, frankly.

Unlike all the other kids and teens, who seem to bounce back up unscathed and laughing after every tumble, I had managed to fracture my pelvis, and was on crutches for more than a month. Apparently, I was the first person ever to leave the disco in an ambulance, since they'd started - which means that now I have to suffer the humiliation of being recognised, every time I take the kids.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 20 Apr 2012, 16:30, Reply)