Beyonce!

... is the only way to describe what my posterior does when I attempt to do a "Snow plough stop". My legs stutter apart, scraping the dull hire-skates over the ice, while my cheeks tremor like the jelly I've got to work, demanding to know if you can handle what I've got and making it abundantly clear that my body is anything but too bootylicious (for you babe).

Or at least that's what the instructor said, accompanied with a brief re-enactment (I was infinitely impressed by her ability to mock us. I skate badly because I can't help it - she could do it at will).

This week, I approached the ice with a sense of optimism: I'd strapped my knees up with neoprene and they were feeling better than they had since the downhill-face-plant-incident several months ago that first gave me trouble. The twinges I had been getting in my left knee had been making me think that ice skating was not just a bad idea, but was bordering on the brink of stupidity. And now, it felt as good as new, and the half-dozen falls from last week were all but forgotten.

Secondly, I'd tied my hair back - I wouldn't spend half the lesson brushing it out of my eyes.

Finally, I'd read up a wikihow page and had one bombshell piece of advice - get tighter skates. Which I did. "Do you have half sizes?" I asked to be told that they only had the size that I was after. It was a sign. It was destiny. I was going to be graceful, I was going to be swift, I was going to be the next Torville or Dean (whichever was the one not wearing a dress you'd blush to show your grandmother).

I stepped onto the ice... brief panic as I realised that ice was not the firm ground I'd been led to believe and was in fact a sheet of really slippery ouch-floor. But, terrified expression aside, I skated two full laps in the fifteen minutes of free-skating that preceded the lesson (later that day I'd be watching the Edinburgh Capitals ice hockey team race laps around the rink, each taking far less than a minute each time). The skates were a huge improvement on last week - suddenly I could keep my balance. I could stop and stand in one place if I wanted - without slowly drifting away. In fact I now consider myself an Expert in Precision Standing On the Spot.

The content of the lesson was the same as last week. I joined the same Absolute Beginners, this time with added children and a fantastic instructor who would often declare that she "loved kids" while imitating their wobbly legs and (hilariously) painful-looking falls. This fun instructor also came with a fun manoeuvre - the Aeroplane (wheeeee!). The aeroplane is fantastic - it's a turn that relies on two things: momentum, and imagination. Essentially, you pick up a bit of speed, glide and then stick your arms out and pretend to be an aeroplane (noises compulsory) . Tilt your arms down to the left, and you turn left - the idea being you spin around in a (controlled) circle. Great, except I panic at the slightest sensation of speed. I managed a quarter turn before running out of momentum...

But there was success this week: Backwards Skating. Begin by turning your toes inwards, then let your knees fall together. Finally, move up and down from one foot to the other. Keep in mind that at this point, you will look like you're desperately trying not to pee yourself. Then you begin moving backwards... quickly... At this point, you will be desperately trying not to pee yourself.

When I skate forwards, I panic. But when I skate backwards, I know that if I fall, I will forward onto my hands and knees. Skating backwards is good. Backwards is easy. My focus is clear - I have to build up enough confidence to skate with speed.

Towards the end of the session I was looking forward to blogging about how I hadn't fallen this week. Unfortunately, not long into the free-skating, I fell. As I picked myself up I found a small girl tangled up in my flailing limbs. I asked if she was all right, as she said the same to me and then I apologised to her mother for the half-muttered obscenity that she might have overheard as I fell. I suspect her mother thinks the poor girl skated into me and that the fall had absolutely nothing to do with my blind incompetence. So that's good...

Various aches and pains today (serves me right for squashing a child) but determined to go back next week. Apparently it takes six months to learn to skate confidently. After this week, that's beginning to seem feasible.

Oh, and I lost my hair tie. Next week I'll be trying a hat. Or an Alice-band.