The Thousands

It was walking past the Majestic Roller Rink in Petersham that did it: now a forlorn building sitting on New Canterbury Road, a tombstone marking good-times-past, facing the charcoal chicken shop and a future of mediocrity. I vowed to seek out the recreational woolly mammoth in its last known Sydney habitat: Emu Plains.

My romantic vision of gliding around in the hot pink and white skate boots of my childhood shattered upon arrival at the hire desk. Rollerskates come in one colour at Penrith Skatel – bandaid beige. The next reality check came in the form of the rink itself. Bright and hot with exposed insulation, and suffering a distinct lack of mirrorballs and disco tunes. This is the suburban outpost of a near obsolete technology. Yes – the tinny top 40 music is interrupted periodically by announcements over the PA for the attendees of Sharnee’s birthday to come to the canteen while the party pies are served.

But we pressed on, two hungover adults jerking around the rink. A few smoother laps in, though far from lords of the rink, we started exchanging goofy smiles. In less than an hour we were vowing we would buy our own skates, storage space be damned! “We’ll get really good!”; “Join a roller derby league and coin sassy names!”

Back at home, the high has faded. But I do have a birthday coming up, and parties at Skatel include both cheezels and icecream cake.