GLIDING gracefully across the ice, my hands warm in a fox fur muffler and ears protected against the cold by a stylish velvet hat, I completed a perfect figure eight before returning to the refreshments table for a warming mug of spiced punch.

I was Doris Day in On Moonlight Bay, waltzing round the ice with Gordon MacRae. I was Illeana Douglas pirouetting perfectly in the dying scenes of To Die For. I was Jayne Torville achieving a perfect six. I was Katarina Witt spinning my way to the ice dance title at the 1984 Olympics. I was, quite frankly, kidding myself.

When my son mentioned his school was holding a family ice skating day, I got a bit over-excited. I imagined the nether regions of Huntington transformed into a twinkling winter wonderland overnight, with reindeer-drawn sleds sliding majestically into the car park at the Yearsley Grove pub and people skiing athletically down New Lane to Monks Cross accompanied by the rhythmic ringing of Alpine cowbells.

The reality was a little different. We arrived at the six-year-old's school in the pouring rain, fox fur mufflers and velvet hats replaced by Cagoules (mine two sizes too big, his two sizes too small) and a Bob The Builder umbrella.

We couldn't find the right entrance - he's only been at the school for three years - and ended up pressing our rain-soaked faces up against a window, silently mouthing the word 'help' until someone realised we weren't escapees from a local loony bin and let us in.

The rink was set up in the junior school hall. If you are now imagining acres of gleaming, sheer ice, think again. This particular rink was a 20ft square piece of plastic surrounded by undersized chairs, which various over-excited youngsters were enthusiastically crashing into.

With the distinct sound of metal on bone ringing ominously in our ears, the lad and I donned our skates and headed out tentatively on to the plastic ice. I immediately froze, my limbs stiffer than a breeze on the Wolds, while he did an uncanny impression of Bambi, his long, skinny legs skittering away from under him.

We eventually managed to regain a modicum of control and joined the other skaters making slow progress in an anti-clockwise circle. I don't think any of us managed to get above about 0.2mph and the only spinning that occurred was unintentional and ended not with a riotous round of applause, but with a bottom hitting the floor with a clatter.

It might not have been up to the standards expected by the likes of Doris, Illeana, Jayne and Katarina, but it was okay by me. Until the six-year-old let go of my hand.

Enjoying a sudden burst of confidence, primarily because he'd just spotted a particularly pretty classmate in a fetching skating skirt, he shot off and left me to my own devices.

I wanted Doris Day in On Moonlight Bay, but instead I got Calamity Jane.

Successful words..

THERE are only ten words you need to succeed. Contrary to what you might think, those words are not "I'm married to Michael Douglas, give me the part now", they are: achievement, active, developed, evidence, experience, impact, individual, involved, planning and transferable skills.

The smarty-pants amongst you will have already realised that this is actually 11 words, but for the purposes of keeping things neat, tidy and even, the good folk at Hertfordshire University have decided that 'transferable skills' is a single unit.

Researchers in the psychology department have discovered that using these words when applying for a university place or a job is more likely to lead to success.

They also revealed that to avoid failure, you should avoid using the following: always, awful, bad, fault, hate, mistake, nothing, panic, problems and never.

Which probably explains why I didn't get the job as George Clooney's mattress spring tester. Here's my application...

"I'm always awful at everything. Honestly, I'm bad to a fault. I hate making a mistake, but nothing can stop me making them. Oh, and I panic when confronted by problems. So, never give me any."

Updated: 10:48 Monday, October 17, 2005