I don’t like snow, actually I hate it with a violent passion and I would gladly stay inside until the bloody thing goes again. I’m so accident prone when it come to the white stuff that all I have to do is look at it and I fall over.
There was this one time, when I was at college, I fell over and cracked my head. For a good few minutes I forgot my mum’s telephone number.
It isn’t really the snows fault, it’s the twisted cousin…ices fault. Then again I’m not a fan of extreme weather, everything too hot or cold and I just want to hid somewhere dark till it goes away.
Unfortunately, that isn’t a option anymore. I have a son, two years old and this is really the first time he’s seen snow. Okay, it was here last year, briefly, but I really don’t think he remembers it. He really hadn’t mastered walking. So I’m still in bed but I can hear them downstairs, talking about making snowman, and igloos. Oh god, someone rescue me. Bring me a hot drink and tell me that the snow was just a bad dream…please?