Winter Confessions

You may call me a wimp, or a spoil-sport; unadventurous or even a killjoy, but I hate snow. Always have done. When I was young, at the first snow, mother would appear full of enthusiasm that we could at long last take the family sledge and “go for a ride.”  In order to counter such a move I would have spent hours trying to bury the so called toboggan into the depths of the garage so that no one would be able to see it – let alone take it out.

“We could build a snowman!” she would say. I always felt it was a puerile occupation, but never summoned up the courage to tell her. It is not as if one couldn’t exactly do anything with a snowman when it had been built apart from look at it and gradually over the next few days watch it slowly sink and disintegrate. To make things worse, the carrot nose would shrivel, sink and become vaguely obscene and its hat, which could get left outside for nearly here weeks , would be totally unusable ever again. In addition father would moan about lumps of coal in the grass when the lawn had to be cut for the first time in the Spring, because no one had thought to remove the snowman’s buttons when he melted.

No, count me out of snow games – all they ever do for me is to make me wet or cold – and usually both.

“Would you like to join our annual school skiing trip next term?” I was often asked by hyper-active games staff at school. “No thanks” I would reply, “I would rather sit at home and file my teeth.” It’s safer and more fun!

They never looked quite so cheerful when they returned after the Easter holidays with a broken leg or even an arm in a sling.

Why tell you all this – it’s so that you may understand why all my photographs of the snow were taken without actually going out into it.

We have snow on glass… snow through the window in one way or another, but at no time was my bobble hat placed on my head or my wellington boots removed from the rack outside where the birds roost in them for an instant trip in to the garden.  It was all very satisfactory.  However the weather forecasters tell me there is more to come on Sunday. Ah well – I promise to try and cheer up by next Friday.

Have fun in the drifts.