I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry. No, not in that way – because of children spending Christmas with people who aren’t their parents, or because of the kindness of those people. I’ve already done that, obviously. This time it’s simply about physical pain, specifically falling on my left wrist. There could be a lesson here, involving wristguards. The bloke in the advert doesn’t have pads, does he? Hence the need for frozen peas. He does have a helmet, though. I have a helmet; later it will save my life, maybe. More lessons.
We’re talking about the new John Lewis advert, obviously, in which a middle-aged man learns to skateboard in order to have common ground with the child he and his wife are fostering, at Christmas time. You’ll have seen it, cried too, perhaps, despite the dreary, slowed-down version of Blink 182’s All the Small Things. It – the ad – is called The Beginner.
Inevitably, because I am a middle-aged man and because editors are not as kind as foster carers are, I’ve been sent skateboarding. Not a total beginner, as it happens: I skated a bit, back in the day. So now I’ve come to my nearest skate park, BaySixty6, under the A40 in west London.
I arrive at the same time as an 18-year-old skateboarder, Rio Obyrne. Has he seen the advert? Seen it? He’s in it! The bit where the bloke is watching skateboarding videos on his computer – that’s Rio, on the screen. No way, and isn’t this a piece of luck? Of all the skateparks in all the world …
Rio’s also happy to help me get up and running. His dad, now 54, took it up when Rio started 12 years ago. It’s never too late, he says, the community is a welcoming one, they get a few oldies down here, some of them aren’t too bad. He used to be embarrassed when his dad came along too, but he’s past that stage.
Anyway, you know the riding a bike thing, and never unlearning it? Doesn’t apply to riding a skateboard, it seems. First attempt, my board shoots off, just like in the ad, and I’m on the floor with a sore wrist.
It’s fine, not broken, not even sprained, I’m good to skate on. Bend your front leg, says Rio, and lean forwards, nose over my knee, yeah, that works. We do the scooting along thing, then a gentle slope, a bit of TikTok … I mean tic-tac, where you jump from side to side. Yep, nailed it. Maybe I’ll put it on TikTok, that would be sick (sic). I’m a natural, gliding through a beautiful urban concretescape, traffic rumbling overhead, I’ve replaced All the Small Things with Avril Lavigne’s Sk8er Boi (in my head, no headphones). And crying again, a new sort of tears, this time for lost youth. Lost, but maybe now regained?
And now I’m suspicious of The Beginner. It’s classic midlife crisis behaviour, isn’t it? It’s not about the little girl, it’s to do with his own insecurities about ageing. That’s probably why he got into fostering in the first place, just so he had an excuse to get a skateboard. “I skate a bit too”? Shut up. And I’m better than he is. Which way to the half-pipe?
Try a fakie first, suggests Rio. That’s where you go the other way, backwards, and that’s where it goes wrong, I fall and my helmet hits the floor. Rio says his dad still can’t do fakies, it’s like a mental block. Great, now you tell me. Rio’s dad has broken both his hips.
Saved by your helmet, a kid says to me. Oi! Shouldn’t you be in school? Inset day, is it? Well, I’ll be checking on that. Actually, he – Alfred, and his mate Eduardo, both 11 – are incredibly nice to me, encouraging and patient. They’re my teachers – and my carers – when Rio’s off flying through the sky somewhere above. They hope to see me down here again. They might do. Rio’s right, it is a welcoming community. I’m thinking of spending Christmas with all of them. Right, better get some stickers for my board.
