Oh my word, I cannot believe I haven't blogged about this yet. Some of you may notice I used to blog a lot more than I do more recently. Maybe that's because I'm out of those awkward teenage years where I was terrified of talking to girls, or well, anyone, and how everything I said had to be carefully thought out for several days or weeks before...maybe years. There's girls out there who will testify to that. Or maybe it's because, oh I don't know, I've got a job and all of a sudden my life isn't a doss anymore, and any spare time I get I don't want to be sat at a computer moaning but in my bed or in the cinema or in the pub.
But genuinely, and here's a nice thought, I just think I'm a happier person. I think less things genuinely wind me up anymore. I still moan and rant around friends, but I'm usually joking and it's more because I like moaning rather than from genuine annoyance. To be honest, there's not many things that go on anymore that I wake up to and make me genuinely really annoyed.
But there is one thing.
And that's snow.
Snow is like one of those people who are absolutely brilliant when you first get to know them; they're interesting, they're different, they're exciting, fun, maybe even romantically intriguing. And I'd be the first to admit that a few years ago I used to love snow. Waking up to see snow lying there was always a great and magical moment. Snow was beautiful, snow was worth staying at home for. All I wanted to do was spend time with snow (I'm deliberately trying to dodge innuendo here - it'd be too easy to talk about how great it is to play with the snow or spend time in the snow or even make a snow man but I'd rather convey a purer love for the magic white powder). Of course, indirectly - snow meant no school, which was great, but even snow just in itself was something I truly loved.
But then the last few years, snow has become far too familiar. I'd wake up and there was snow. Snow which got in the way of work, of seeing other friends, of going out to places other than my house. Snow which meant things like jogging and going to the cinema were things that became far too irregular for my liking (ok, maybe not jogging). It began to affect my social life, my work life, and my enjoyment of all life. And that's when I realised I'd falled out of love with snow.
But now it won't go away. I'm waking up in March to find it's snowing like a maniac outside. To carry on the analogy it's like having a stalker, and then moving to Turkey to escape the stalker only to wake up one morning in Turkey and there's the stalker dancing naked like a maniac outside your window. And it's just not fun anymore.
Truth is I got fed up a couple of years ago when we had 4 snow days in one week. Day one, brilliant, went mad in the snow. Day 2, ok, played in the snow a bit then went inside. Day 3 and 4, just spent the days at home, guiltily wishing for school to start again.
And then the next year, snow got annoying at university, and starting playing havoc with me trying to get back up there by train.
And this year it went mad for ages, ruined work, then went away, tried to come back and ruin my birthday (and nearly bloody did - but thank goodness for determined friends - especially Trev, who deserves a mention for flipping off the snow in a bombastic car journey from Warwick to Leeds just to celebrate my 22nd) and now it's just coming back every now and then to wind me up. Yesterday afternoon, arriving back from London with a stinking cold and shivers because I was an idiot and 'too macho for a jumper' the night before, and then the snow came to try and kill me off at my weakest. And now this morning, there she is, mocking me as she falls from the sky. Look at you, she says, you wished me away and now you're all alone at your desk blogging and I'm outside having all this lovely fun. Snow is a right cow.
I really hope this isn't what marriage is like.
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