Somewhere between the ages of fourteen and now, I learnt fear and became a crap rollerblader. Six hours of rollerblading in Hyde Park on Saturday, and not once did I dare to attempt a jump, my right cross-turns were pathetically tentative, and minor terrain changes like stepping off curbs to cross roads rendered me pussy-footed and nervous.
But long straight stretches still felt like flying, and taking off the skates still brought that old sensation of disappointment and flat-footedness. I’d love to pick up skating again, but I have too little time left here and too much heat rash in Singapore. Sigh.
We returned the skates, noted degrees of sunburn (Brian: considerable, Alec: noticeable tanning but no burn, me: just a deeper shade of yellow), and headed to the pub to rehydrate before going to Soho to watch Jerry Sadowitz do card tricks and be incredibly offensive. The above link describes how he once won a bet with fellow comedians by going on stage and saying “Nelson Mandela, what a cunt.”
A blazing day.