I turned up for my rollerblading experience after a terrible night's sleep. My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. Maybe it was nerves, but I confess my spirits were low, and I began to question whether stumbling around on wheels could really lead to an improved me.
But then my instructor, Mike, arrived. He must have been rollerblading at over 30 miles an hour and with his perfect form and sunglasses I didn't know whether I was about to get a lesson or enter a face-off with Agent Smith from The Matrix.
Mike as it turns out wasn't a rogue computer virus but a very patient and positive teacher. His enthusiasm for rollerblading was infectious and within 10 minutes I was completely absorbed. The only course I've been on in recent times is a course of antibiotics for a chest infection and I'd forgotten how nice it is to be taught something, especially one-on-one tutoring. I'd recommend getting some if only for the attention and personal contact.
After an hour's coaching I had successfully learned the basics and felt confident enough to join at least 100 like-minded skaters and go on a Roller Stroll – an ambitious trek through London's weekend traffic, from Hyde Park Corner to Parsons Green.
Talk about a cross section of society. I thought we might be entering Noah's Ark – there was at least one of everything. Some people had travelled from as far as Nottingham to do the three-hour stroll and you could see why; it was such a friendly crowd. Music pumped out of backpack speakers creating this brilliant atmosphere and there was a palpable excitement in the air as everyone waited in anticipation of that whistle blow which signalled we could take off. What a buzz!
Marshals stopped the traffic like we were foreign dignitaries on mini wheels and suddenly I was experiencing London from a whole new perspective. Quickly I was at the back of the pack, but I partnered up with a girl who had only just started too. We pleasantly chatted, gliding effortlessly into Knightsbridge. It seemed so fun and civilised up until she collided with a parked car. She wasn't up for carrying on so I said I'd accompany her back to the start, at which point I slammed into a lamp-post, hit the deck and rolled into the path of a passing shopper.
I'd got some nasty elbow grazes, war wounds from a morning spent well out of my comfort zone, but I felt great. I gingerly rubbed antiseptic cream into my cuts and despite some little squeals of pain I knew this was the enjoyable sting of manliness I had missed for so long.
I started the day as a nervous total novice, and ended up being far more successful than I'd imagined. Just don't mention the lamp-post.
