I hate the snow!
There I’ve said it. I know it’s not a popular opinion, but finally after 46 years I’ve decided to be honest about it. The idea of a skiing holiday is my idea of absolute hell. Not even the après-ski would make me consider wasting my life on a place with snow. I would happily relocate anywhere in the world that never has the stuff – and would never miss it if I never saw it again. I don’t even like being out in the snow long enough to make a snow angel or snowman, or to throw snowballs. And I definitely wouldn’t want to go sledging. Snow makes me cold, wet and very depressed.
I will admit that for about five minutes last Saturday night, the freshly falling, powdery, glitter-strewn white stuff did enchant me enough for me to post a sappy Twitter/Facebook message, but in my defence I wasn’t at that point snowed in, I was on my way home from a brilliant evening out which had involved good friends, good food and a considerable amount of cake - and I’d had several large glasses of wine. By the morning normal service had been resumed and the discovery that I was once again trapped had me scurrying back to bed in a major sulk.
Snow looks very pretty when you are in a nice warm house and don’t need to actually go out in it, but open that door and suddenly you’re left with the nasty reality – either you’re snowed in and can’t go anywhere decent (and by that I mean anywhere other than Walderslade village and even that’s a major chore which resembles an arctic trek), or you can finally get out as the roads have been cleared, but then risk breaking your neck on the too slowly thawing snow and ice.
Before I worked at home, being snowed in was a great way to have a few days off work and something I vaguely looked forward to just as long as I didn’t have to actually leave the house at any point. But now that I have access to the office from home, being snowed in doesn’t stop me from working and so it loses its appeal. When it stops you from actually doing stuff, like going to concerts, or seeing friends it then becomes actively unpleasant. Fortunately, this year we haven’t had any concerts yet and so we haven’t had that problem, unlike last year where we had to miss several because of the white stuff (although had we known about Peter Doherty’s secret gig on Sunday I wouldn’t have been able to go, as was the case last year too).
Unfortunately, snow makes me lazy. I have problems leaving the house in normal weather and sometimes have to really force myself to set foot outside the door. But once the snow and ice come it’s even harder. Partly it’s because I’m not very sure-footed and have had too many painful tumbles on the ice to feel comfortable about walking in the white stuff, but also because, surprisingly for a winter baby, I just get the urge to hibernate, to curl up under my duvet and not re-appear until Easter.
The beautiful glittery, powdery snow that so enchanted me on Saturday night has now been around for five days and is hard, icy and generally a pain in the arse (sometimes quite literally) to deal with. And according to reports there could be more to come. I have to admit that I’m really hoping that the reports aren’t true!
