ice skating with a warm heart

It's 9pm, outside the war is starting. Inside my fingers are sore from pulling the laces of my skates tighter than tight in the freezing cold. My nose and cheeks are red and glowing. We've been ice skating today in this amazingly beautiful Dutch aria of fields and entangled streams. I'd never seen something like it ever before! Holland is under a spell of freezing temperatures with the sound of scraping and sliding metal. It's been more than 10 years I last stood on skates, but hoping I might have inherited a special gene I gave it a go. No ice-hockey skates but noren- no idea what that is in English. With 'we' I mean my dad, his good old ice skate friends and me.
The bad news.... I got lost in the masses -a couple of thousand Dutchies- and the immense amount of misty lanes. The good thing is that I can still skate, found my way back, loved it and had mulled wine in an old windmill.