I AM perched at the Viola Ice Rink tapping this out.

My son and his friend are whizzing around the ice, while I am staying on slightly less slippy terrain.

I would claim to be like Bambi, but my doe-eyed days are rather behind me now.

Instead I feel like a tottering middle-aged lady, too cautious and careful about twisting an ankle.

I have painful experience of this, spraining my ankle while falling off a step and sprawling in the street outside a pub.

Before any guffaws are issued and eyes are rolled, I was entirely sober and extremely embarrassed, as a bus line full of people turned and found my trip a mildly interesting anecdote at around tea time at the end of a chilly Thursday.

My goodness, it was a pain that shot through me and reminded me that pain, like weather, is out of your control and can play havoc with your day.

But the pain we feel from a knock, bump or fall, is just one kind.

Often, though not always, we can be kissed better, bandaged and patched up and while we may retain a scar, often they fade.

Sometimes they can be turned in to something that makes us a more interesting, layered version of ourselves.

One friend turned her breast cancer scarring into a tattoo full of meaning and while the preceding five years were doubtless some of the more frightening, tortuous times of her life, the surface is now a thing of exquisite beauty.

But what about the scarring on the inside?

That scar that stems from ill health; the scar from family troubles, relationship breakdown, stress at work (or getting work) or indeed any of the other problems we can face that make us feel anxious, angry, upset, regretful, jealous, ugly or just plain sore?

On that, I just had a little pause from writing as my son staggered off the ice with a contorted face having taken a tumble.

What struck me was the care with which his friend accompanied him and the reassurance that she gave him.

He’s had a hug and they’re back skating around the rink, but I was struck by the importance of having someone to catch, comfort and cajole you to get back on the ice.

Who will see, accept and love the whole us, gnarly scars and knobbly bits and all?

We are easy to love when we are nice and smiling, but it’s maybe more of a stretch to embrace the snotty, blotchy face of us crying, carrying on or angry.

I have talked at length over the years of this column of the value I place on those in my life to whom I can turn when my scars are deepening and exposed.

Ice is cold and hard and we all need a soft cushion occasionally.

If we can be that for others and find someone to be that for us, then we can skate through life that little more smoothly.