I suspect ice hockey wasn’t one of the ‘games confederate’ that Mr Wordsworth had in mind back in the day. However, the line (from The Prelude, Book 1) fitted nicely with the skate I wanted to draw for my next page of the Sketchbook Project 2012. You can read the ice skating episode of the poem here.
The skates belong to The Son, who is flying back from Switzerland tonight. He has been playing ice hockey since he was 6 years old. (He’s coming up to his 20th birthday.) I guess this will serve as a welcome home present too.
I’m also acutely aware that the deadline for posting off the sketchbook is galloping towards me, so I definitely need to get my skates on too.