Yes, its an absolute nuisance. As a nation fond of discussing the weather, it fills everyone with conversation topping experiences but we cannot cope with the white stuff very well. It happens. Two or three days and people moan and count the economic cost. I am convinced that if a meteorite (or is it meteor?) destroyed most of the country, there's still be some economist stating how many days work the event cost the country.
I have, let me say at the outset, passed some scary journeys in it. I have had family arriving home 6 hours after leaving work some ten miles away, and friends travelling 14 hours from the next town, have had to abandon cars and have been unable to reclaim a vehicle for two days, have walked miles due to local transport failures. So when I say I love the stuff, I speak not purely from wonderful white Christmas experiences or through rose tinted snow goggles.
It is a rare and an increasingly rarer experience for all of us. But when it falls, I'm a kid again. I can't wait to get out in it. I'm saddened when the stuff turns to slush, become wary when it freezes and becomes lethally slippy, but as it arrives I am captivated by the changes in the world outside and spend much time looking through windows.
Going to bed as it falls and waking up to the brighter light on the ceiling, reflected off the surface of the snow through the gaps at the window, causes me to rush to the window to see what can be seen. And this morning was one of those mornings.
I was out and off, with the purpose of reaching the doctors surgery to order a prescription which could be done with all the ease of the Internet, but no. The snow was calling and falling. Mere electronic convenience was put aside. I know going to the doctors isn't exactly a recognised winter sport, nor is snowballing for that matter, but snowmen and snowballs, where they go to dance presumably, have taken a step down the list of snow activities for me. I can be happy now simply walking, looking and taking the odd photograph.
I know the weather conditions were a little alien today, but I did not realise that taking photographs of everyday objects covered with snow could create a sense of oddness for young people. "What are taking photos of then?" I was asked, with no sense of malice, by two mid to late teen youths. I was a little taken aback. It was so obvious to me. But when I pointed out that the snow had fallen, they passed on and simply added, "Its great isn't it?"
In the park, Trish built a snow rabbit. I photographed her and it. The sun came out briefly and the landscape was augmented by shadows of trees stretching across the flat white ground turning cream coloured in the mid afternoon sun. And then the local schools emptied their contents across the park.
Walking past groups who were sharing and showering snowballs with varying degrees of accuracy and parents dragging sledges loaded with shrieking toddlers, I realised that the thrill was slipping away. Children began to redistribute the overnight work of nature at quite a pace.
It will no longer the same.
Still, it had it moments.
PS Apart from people like me and children, the people who seem to enjoy this kind of weather even with greater relish, are TV journalists. When the rest of the country struggles to get anywhere, they turn up everywhere where the snow is deepest. Wonderful.
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