Good luck to the Oilers!
I started skating when I was seven years old, and the best present I ever received was a brand new pair of maroon and yellow hockey skates on (I think) my 9th birthday. We were pretty poor back then, but somehow my mother managed to scrape together the money to buy them. Last thing I expected when I opened that box - still brings a tear to my eye more than half a century on. I always wanted to play ice hockey, but although Perth used to have a very good team (Perth Panthers), they folded a couple of years before I was born, and the local ice rink turned its focus to curling and figure skating, so no viable opportunities for me to play hockey back then, alas. I still went to skating sessions every opportunity I got throughout my early year though, until fatherhood and self-employment eventually put a complete stop to having selfish fun.
Unexpectedly, decades later, I was literally gifted the opportunity to fulfill a boyhood dream whilst on holiday in Sweden just before Covid forced everyone to suspend life. My holiday apartment overlooked a huge frozen lake, with people walking (and some even cycling) across it every day. There were even a few cars parked on it at the edges. I'm sure you are very familiar with the kind of temperatures that allowed such things, Diane, and no doubt far lower, but this was new to me. I can recall the River Tay in my home town icing over once in my life, but not thick enough to risk walking on, never mind driving. I had always wanted to skate outdoors on a river or a loch, but never got the chance.
Then, on the last full day of the holiday, we took a walk further along the lakeside than we'd been so far, and discovered a skate hire shop... and that 'now or never' thing took hold. To my astonishment and delight, the very cheerful staff informed me it was all free, and even found beautiful leather hockey skates for me to wear rather than those nasty plastic figure skates they hire out in Scottish ice rinks. We had a lovely wee chat about my Bucket List dream before they wished me luck as I set off for the ice with my skates on with thoughts of gliding at graceful speed around the miles of frozen ice all around me.
Sadly, it didn't go as well as I'd dreamt. My first fall occurred about a minute later, before I could attain any speed at all worth mentioning. And my second, about 30 seconds after the first, once I'd picked myself up, this time with the back of my thankfully-thick skull thudding against the ice, threatening everyone on it. And this time, I was helped to my feet by a fellow kindly skater - a tiny Swedish lady who didn't look a day over 80. I immediately conceded defeat. Some things were just never meant to be, and all I remember of the very slow and tentative journey of shame back to the hire shop to collect my shoes was the phrase "No fool like an old fool" skating repeatedly through my head. The guys in the shop were brilliant, and showed genuine sympathy with not a hint of suppressed laughter. I consoled myself with the thought I was almost certainly only one of many old fools who had taken to the ice over the years. It was worth a try.
As for last night's football - it was an excellent night for my German half.
