That did NOT go well

Afternoon Dear Reader,


No I haven’t passed out on my keyboard, although that is a distinct possibility seen as I am blimmin knackered.  That is the written equivalent of the noise I make when I think about last weekend.


There is is again.

It loosely translates as the word you say when you would happily peel your own skin off it it meant you could go back in time and not do the embarrassing thing that made you go FLARGH in the first place.

How I feel most mornings after a night of wine.

How I feel most mornings after a night of wine.

Now you may be surprised to know that there are quite a lot of things I have done that I am particularly embarrassed about.  (Alright not that many!). Most of them involve Tina Turner, alcohol, public places, or a combination of all three.

This time, however, my anxiety relates to the British Adult Ice Skating Championships 2016.

You weren’t expecting that were you?

As well as being a marathon runner, sub-par karaoke singer and semi-professional tequila slammer I am still trying to recapture my youth through the niche sport of adult figure skating.

Last year it went surprisingly well.  I had only been back on the ice mere weeks and I won the gold medal in the Silver Ladies.  What an achievement! That bad boy went straight on my Tinder profile and has been the start of many a disappointing conversation with the opposite sex.

Fast-forward almost 12 months later.

Me, albeit a slimmer version of me, although not that slim as I am apparently incapable of avoiding carbs.  On the ice in Sheffield. On. My. Arse. (Sorry Mum)

It was a total disaster.

Jessica Fletcher is disappointed with me.

Even Jessica Fletcher is disappointed with me.

In my defence, the stuff I was trying to do was not exactly easy – you try jumping off the ground, turning round twice and landing on one leg and see how well you get on.  But, on the other hand, it wasn’t that hard either.  I can do all this stuff that I was supposed to have done but instead of remaining cool calm and collected, channeling Jessica Ennis or some other champion athlete, I opted for the lesser known, very unsuccessful method of being a bundle of nerves, generally not knowing if I was going to throw up or wee myself, walking round in circles and  just plain panicking.

Think less Ussain Bolt, more Beaker from the Muppets.


Safe to say it wasn’t the best skate anyone has ever done.  I fell over a fair few times which in ice-skating save for stabbing yourself in the eye with your blade, is pretty much the last thing you want to do.  Not only is it fairly embarrassing but it also makes it ten times harder for yourself.  A fall totally takes away your momentum and means you have to exert so much more energy trying to get going again and it just makes everything a whole lot harder.


For a brief moment I did contemplate just lying on the ice and refusing to move/faking my own death

It is amazing how long 2 minutes 40 seconds can be when all you can think about is getting off the ice.  I could have done with the judges buzzing, BGT style and just letting me stop and get off but no you have to skate the whole miserable length of the programme.  I swear they may as well have gone for a fag and a pint halfway through for the good it would have done me.

I might look graceful but inside I am dying.

I might look graceful but inside I am dying.

So there we are, no medals for Sophie this year.

And I have to do it all over again in two weeks time. In Germany.  What am I doing?! I am equal parts terrified and determined.  I am now officially the underdog which significantly reduces the pressure – after all it could hardly go worse.  Or maybe it can.

Maybe this was sent to test me, and in true Flashdance style I will rise from the crushing defeat, win over the hearts of the judges, and skip off into the sunset with my iron welding boss boyfriend.

Maybe not.

Actually if you haven’t seen Flashdance there is a surprising amount of ice skating in it.  Coincidentally, she too makes a total fool of herself. Worth a watch if you need a visual of what happened to me on Sunday.

This is pretty much exactly what happened only without the 80s music and dramatic lighting.  I am also about 9 times the size of this lady.

I am back on the ice tomorrow morning.  I should have gone on Wednesday but I was too tired.  Humiliating yourself in public is exhausting which is probably why you never see Kerry Katona before 8am.

Sarcasm aside, I have decided to be positive about this (can you tell?).  I may not have skated “well” but if you had asked me 18 months ago how I feel about the British Adult Ice Skating Championships, I would have laughed in your face – or at least tried to – it’s hard to laugh with a mouth full of doughnuts.

Things can only get better…hopefully. 

Speak Soon

Soph x






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