My spectacular roll

You just never know when something you learn might come in useful, even something you picked up many, many years ago, even in your childhood, maybe your earliest childhood. I had an example of this happen to me last week.

My dad had been in the Parachute Regiment during the war, and when I was really quite young, maybe four, five or six, he taught me how to do a parachute roll. We practised, bending our knees into the controlled fall, then rolling down your body onto your shoulder so you could then spring to your feet. Then we practised jumping off things, including what we called the kitchen cabinet, a set of metal cupboards and drawers about adult waist height. The kitchen table was pushed out of the way as we sprang off the cabinet. I expect my mum was amused and slightly alarmed at these goings on, but I remember her laughing at the pair of us. Thinking back it’s so clear, but I guess that in reality I didn’t really leap off, but was helped by dad – but in my memory I sprang off, and rolled perfectly and unhurt on landing!

How did this skill serve me in later life, and last week in fact? Last Wednesday, the writing group met, not on our usual community room, but in the lovely home of one of our members. We sat round her table, not with our writing in our hand, but with knives and forks as we enjoyed a delicious Christmas meal she and her husband had prepared for us. The guests had brought bottles of wine and soft drinks, and we munched, slurped and chatted the evening away. We had each brought a little gift to put in Secret Santa’s sack, we had crackers, we had pudding, we had a marvellous and convivial evening.

I had been given a lift and was about to telephone for a return journey when one of our number, the Poet Macaque, offered to drop me home on his way back. We bade farewell to our friends, thanked our lovely hosts and set off the mile and a bit back to my house, chatting all the way. We stopped and thanking Macaque, I leapt from the car. I hurried onto the path and suddenly my feet were no longer on the ground, I was elevated, and then descended onto our drive. Macaque leapt from the car as I leapt up, having executed a perfect parachute roll which automatically set me back on my feet. I assured him I was fine, in my big thick winter coat – so what had happened?

I’ve had to explore shoe parts to be able to explain. My shoes had metal eyelets, but they weren’t just punched metal rings, they were what’s called hooked eyelets, or speed eyelets.  They are so called because instead of the lace being threaded through a reinforced hole in the leather, there is a cunning little hooky thing which you wind the laces round.

https://txtureboots.com/This eyelet is quite interesting because it is the only one who has a nickname. The nickname for this eyelet is “Speed Hooks”. These are the types of eyelets that you can only find on boots.
The method of lacing with this eyelet is somewhat unique. Compared to being woven and inserted into the eyelet, the shoelace loops to the hook at the top and then ties it, thus quickens the lacing and unlacing process, just like his nickname.
This uniqueness is advantageous for this type of eyelet because boots usually take a long time to insert the laces. However, with this eyelet, it can be accelerated.
This eyelet attaches to the boot’s top right at the ankle with a few other smaller eyelets after.
https://txtureboots.com/eyelet/#:~:text=As%20we%20know%2C%20an%20eyelet,shoes%20can%20be%20tightened%20later.

The loop of the bow of the shoelace on one of my shoes had been hooked by a speed hook onto the other shoe, effectively hobbling me and sending me into my spectacular roll and leap. I was quite astounded to have been turned upside down and then back upright again in a trice, and laughed somewhat – trying to reassure Macaque that I really was fine! Later I checked my knees and hands, no bumps, no bruises, no scrapes or scratches. Who would have thought jumping off the kitchen cabinet as a child would have served me so well!

My featured image is the Parachute Regiment Memorial at the National Memorial Arboretum, Alrewas, Staffordshire.