This Henry Raeburn painting of a minister ice-skating at ease in 1795 leaves me pining for the past as I try to find a patch of ice all to myself in central London. It seems that the grace and control of the minister would be difficult to achieve in any London venue. He would have been knocked down by ungrateful little health hazards in the shape of teenagers. The pumping music aired at ludicrous volumes would ruin his clearly tranquil state of mind and he would be obliged to wear the one size fits all bright blue skates ressembling plastic lunch boxes with a blade stuck to the outside. If he wasn't wincing from the pain of it all, he would probably be unconscious in a corner having been rammed into the side by people claiming "ice attendant" status. Natural History museum , here we come...
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