Diary of a London Rollergirl
Episode 1 – New Skates.

After yet another shitty morning spent hunched over my laptop I open the front door to a, if you don’t mind me saying, bit of alright, who shuffles from foot to foot uncomfortably as the grown woman he just handed a package to regresses into a squealing, babbling, teenage-esque mess.

Five minutes later, box torn open, shoelaces tied, I return to my desk…..only this time underneath said desk is a pair of feet rolling back and forth, occasionally kicking the wall with the end of the shiny new Riedell 265s they’re wearing.

Sometime around 3 I make myself a cuppa, and pretend to skate really fast in the kitchen (holding on to the bench, going nowhere real fast – think doing the running man…on skates…without lifting your feet) while I wait for the kettle to boil. I wonder if the timid librarian downstairs can hear me on his ceiling?

At 5pm I catch myself just staring at my blood red wheels. I think I may have drooled a little.

Just after 7pm, the other half wheels me out of the way so he can get into a cupboard I’m blocking. I wave the big fuck-off kitchen knife at him and he retreats to another room.

I catch the reflection of my skates in the blade of my knife and smile.

Glasgow kisses
Slice.