The Ice-Factor

My love affair with the freaky, frozen substance began at the age of four when I first chanced upon the original ‘Mighty Ducks’ film and all other ambitions were dropped in the hope of fashioning myself into Connie Moreau (the one no one else would remember apart from the fact that she is the only girl on the team). So I wheedled, begged and nagged until my poor father eventually gave in and drove me for over an hour to the nearest ice rink in Aberdeen.

There is a lot of politics, pushy parents and rivalries in figure skating (enough to put Jilly Cooper’s ‘Riders’ to shame, anyway). Yet I threw myself into this world for five years, from the age of eleven when I approached a coach to start training me, until sixteen- when it was decided that I actually did need to do some academic work in order to achieve decent A-Level grades.

The hierarchy in figure skating is pretty set and dictates everything from the changing room you use to the patch of ice you are relegated to. But despite all the internal competitiveness, spending so much time together inevitably means you will make some lasting friendships and it is of the ice-shows where everyone is working together that I have my favourite memories, including many over-zealous make-up artists with a penchant for glitter (perhaps explaining my magpie instincts for anything that sparkles).

Whilst on the ice you are not only required to learn all of your own routines, but those of everyone who skates with you, so that you can predict their movements across the rink and clear the way. Unfortunately, no matter how much you may start out loving a piece of music you will always end up hating it after the fortieth run; as has proven true with all my choices from Jurassic 5 to Disney.

Like most sports it would have been impossible without the support (reluctant though it may have been) of my parents. Unlike most mothers, mine was only there for competitions and has only been introduced to my coach twice, preferring to drop me off for the 5am start that was required on test days and sensibly head back to bed.

At my peak I was skating three times a week with off-ice training at 7.30 am on a Saturday morning, costing approximately £9 for fifteen minutes, with boots, blades and handmade costumes required on top. The financial investment needed to support a sport like figure skating, or any sport at a high level, is phenomenal and leads to a lot of pressure on young children to ensure their investment pays off.

Although I progressed pretty far, my lack of commitment and the age at which I started prohibited me from reaching my full potential. My natural desire to remain standing prevented me from putting in my full effort, despite my coach’s exhortation that: “if you are not falling over, you are not trying hard enough”, preferring instead my usual fallback of natural talent and a bit of luck.

Coming to University has enabled me achieve a greater degree of perspective on the sport and the way that I miss it - the feeling of freedom, power and grace, as you speed across an empty rink, tells me that it wasn’t something I did just because I was good at it, but because I loved it.

For those of you hoping to visit the ice-rink at Clifford’s Tower the experience will doubtless be one of hilarity, exhilaration, and perhaps a little fear, as chances are a lot of you will, at some point, end up sitting on the ice, instead of standing on it. Although I have become so conditioned as to not find ice slippery any more, the time spent coaxing, encouraging and scaring my friends will undoubtedly make it just as enjoyable and get us all into the spirit of Christmas.

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