Not so much a Steven Seagal title, as an exciting childhood event that would uncontrollably draw faces to the classroom window. It was then a matter of counting down the minutes and seconds before break before hurtling outside to play with the stuff. It was never a poetic moment – just great fun!
We've had a load in the night and right now it's still gently falling. The flat feels brighter because of the reflected light. Pundits have remarked that this will be a severe winter. Quite how they divine this is a mystery to me, but it's probably safer than saying that we'll have a three-month long heatwave.
The doggies are fascinated with the stuff – it somehow makes all the smells crisper and more attractive. They're excited, but haven't done 'mad dog', unlike our other hounds who used to rush about the garden with wide-eyed abandon biting it up. Maybe it's beneath Hong Kong dogs to do 'mad dog' with the elements...
I once shared a flat in Hull with two Botswanans (it's along story) and they couldn't believe how snow was truly white. They had read the Biblical descriptions of it, but it was only on coming outside they understood the relevance of the words of Isaiah, "though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow". We then spent the next twenty minutes at war pelting each other with great fluffy snowballs until their fingers became painfully frozen and retreat seemed the better part of valour. It was one of the most enjoyable snowball fights ever.
Some of the worst snowball fights, however, were against neighbouring schools where dog shit and stones were added to give greater impact. Being tall I always took a hit.
It's only a matter of time before snowmen appear. I loved making snowmen, especially the orthodox kind where one giant snowball can be pushed atop another and sticks used for arms. I remember only once using coal, a carrot and a scarf – wouldn't they get nicked?
Many adults are particularly surly with snow; even my mum considered it frightful, horrid stuff. Of course, no-one wants to slip over and get hurt, but isn't it better to maintain the childhood delight of snow – to value every season and enjoy it for what it is? I suppose if I worked in geriatric orthopedics or was a hill farmer with flocks suffocating under the stuff then I might have other opinions.
The flakes are much bigger and the fall is thicker now. Here I am tucked up in my nice warm flat whilst others are less fortunate. Well, perhaps it's no coincidence that the season of goodwill also falls at this time.
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