Today, on another gloriously sunny winter's day, we decided to go to Manly - on a mission! We rose early (well early for us, especially on a Saturday) and went to our new favourite coffee haunt, Le Petite Tart for brekkie to give us a boost. Then we caught the ferry to the beach. The particular destination was Manlyblades, where we'd seen some hot wheels just waiting for the right owners to come along! Dean bought a skateboard, or to be more specific, a cruiseboard. And I bought some Rollerblades, the original in-line skates. I have wanted some of these since I was about 12. I'd mastered the art of normal roller skating (those with a wheel on each corner) and saw some cool dude dash past me wearing in-line skates, the new craze! Don't ask me why I didn't get any before now. I suppose I was pretending to grow up, but at last it's caught up with me. I think ultimately I'm not allowed to grow up until I've conquered in-line skating. So, I succumbed! And Dean didn't need much encouragement to join me in this attempt at denying our true ages!
I did try to show some wisdom, by hiring some skates for an hour, just to make sure I still felt the craze. I was a bit unsteady to start with, but by the end of the hour, I was doing fine and soon felt my skills from ice-skating showing through. I was made to wear all the protective gear - very fetching, but I didn't fall!! We returned to the shop (me, much more red-faced than an hour ago) and spent about another hour trying on and choosing the right one/s.
The irony is that as we were nearing our house at the end of the day with new purchases 'under-arm', I slipped on some kind of perfectly round (ball-bearing-like) seed the size of a chestnut and promptly landed on my arse. I put out my wrist, as you do, which received an almighty wallop from the tarmac (now all bruised and tender). I'm not sure if that's an omen or not. I've been dying to put my skates on, but I'm erring on the side of caution until my hand feels better!