Skating into midlife at Life Science Centre, Newcastle

Tonight kicked off the Christmas spirit

Tonight officially marked the start of Christmas for us. There’s something wonderfully nostalgic about open-air ice rinks, the smell of cold air, hot chocolate, and mild panic as you try not to face-plant in front of strangers.

I hadn’t laced up skates since my late teens at Whitley Bay Ice Rink, and I was terrible then, and I’m still terrible now. Some things never change: balance, coordination, or the ability to glide gracefully.

Festive lights and first laps

At the Life Science Centre’s festive rink in Times Square, Newcastle, twinkling lights wrapped the ice in a magical glow, as Backworth Colliery Brass Band played carols that made even my wobbly legs feel good. I was rocking my plaits with pride, my midlife nod to the Gen-Zers around me with their Insta-appeal.

Cocoa and s’mores

The evening began perfectly: steaming cups of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, sprinkles, and a Life Science wafer. Then we headed to the marshmallow fire pit, where Cyrus expertly charred his s’mores while I, less skilled, ended up with sticky sugar glued to my fingers. H, on a no-sugar streak, wisely stayed on the sidelines, probably wishing his cocoa could be a pint instead.

Bambi on ice (feat. one small speed skater)

When it came time to skate, Cyrus shot off. I, meanwhile, had a full-on Bambi moment, wobbling and teetering around the rink. I eyed the penguins available for balance longingly, every time a child clutched one, I thought, that’s my support system right there. I may even have whispered to H that I needed one, but he wisely refused, citing “dignity” as a concern.

Ankle agony and boot battles

The ankle strain hit immediately. Skating is far harder on joints than it looks, and my calves and Achilles were on fire before we’d completed lap two. Just when I thought my struggles were limited to balance, getting the skates off proved another ordeal. They were stubborn, just like me telling H he had to come with us tonight and not sit in the sauna at the gym. Cue a comical tug-of-war between me and H, with him grunting and yanking my boot off while I squealed like a drama queen. My pride was slightly bruised watching Cyrus slide out of his with ease, but there were giggles galore. Note to my future self: when I eventually need a zimmer, I’m getting one that looks like a penguin. Clearly, penguin support = survival on the ice.

A star on ice (and it wasn’t me)

Before my own calamities, we watched Callum Leach, British National Championship Junior Skater and former Disney on Ice star, perform with jaw-dropping grace. He twirled, leapt, and spun effortlessly while I felt like a particularly uncoordinated penguin. Watching him reminded me that skating is an art, one I clearly left behind decades ago.

Support all around

What really made the night enjoyable was the warmth of the staff. They were friendly, welcoming, and calm, and there was always someone nearby ready to offer support on the ice. From helping children balance to giving a reassuring hand to wobbling midlifers like me, the team made sure everyone felt safe and supported. That sense of security allowed the stress of the week to ebb away, by the time we’d been skating for 40 minutes, I felt genuinely light, relaxed, and ridiculously happy.

A lesson in humility

Just as I thought I might glide with some semblance of control, a tiny voice interrupted me: “Excuse me, your skate’s undone.” A little girl, probably no older than seven, had rescued me from certain embarrassment. Mortified doesn’t cover it. Corrected by someone still in single digits was hilarious. Meanwhile, H remained on dry land, occasionally lending moral support and helping other skaters on and off the ice. His stance: “I will help, but I will not fall.” Wise man.

Ankle agony versus feel-good factor

Despite wobbling, bruised pride, and tender ankles, I couldn’t stop smiling. The rink lights shimmered, Callum’s spins were still vivid in my memory, and Cyrus’ laughter rang out as he demanded “just one more lap!” Skating is exhausting, but there’s something almost meditative about the 40 minutes on ice. Stress replaced by that silly, exhilarating feel-good factor you can only get from gliding (or wobbling) across ice while surrounded by twinkling lights. As I hobbled home later, I wondered whether I’d survive the gym tomorrow. The answer? Probably yes, with careful stretches, ankle rehab, and fantastic memories.

Would I go again?

I left with flushed cheeks, shaky legs, and a heart full of festive warmth. Would I go again? Absolutely. Next time, I’ll pretend to be under 1.2m tall, take a penguin for a fiver and leave the pirouettes to Callum. And I’ll wear my plaits, my midlife nod to the Gen-Zers, with pride all over again.

For more information, visit the Life Science Centre