Dec 23, 2012 19:42
Peter isn't exactly what you'd call a jock. He's pretty much the opposite of that, honestly, and spent most of his time in the locker rooms at Harrow getting wedgies and getting picked last for football and rugby and lacrosse and polo and pretty much every other sport that poncy English aristocrats liked to play to make them feel robust and vital.
Some kind of bullshit like that, at any rate.
The one exception to his lack of hand-eye coordination had always been ice skating. Not exactly a sport - hockey had never exactly taken off in Britain - but it was Physical Activity at which Peter excelled, and one of the reasons he'd always liked winter. When he'd been at Thames House - four years after he'd been released from the zoo of elite public school and into the even more elite world of university - Peter had kept up the skating, to the point where if he needed to do some thinking on a project and you couldn't find him anywhere at the office, the Somerset House ice rink was a good bet.
The pond on the 'Deck' wasn't exactly the same, but better to do this than sulk in his dungeon office. Scrutinizing his phone quite so intently while on skates might end up being a mistake, though.
tally ♦,
@green,
@town,
#log,
evan ♣,
peter ♦,
+diamonds ♦,
eden ♦