I sat down opposite one of my dearest friends and the first thing I could bring myself to say was, “I wish people would stop complaining about the god damn snow.” She looked at me oddly for a moment and that gazed back out of the window at the snow. “I know, it’s well pretty,” she agreed.
We don’t get snow in Derby very much, when the rest of Britain is covered in blankets of pretty white magic Derby is bone dry. Last year the town five minutes down the road, literally five minutes, was covered in snow and we didn’t see a single snowflake. When it does snow, I like to appreciate it.
All day long, as I’m walking along the street, waiting at the bus stop, making small talk with the man who owns the corner shop, all I hear is complaint after complaint about the snow. The radio or the news playing ambiently in the background spouts repetitive nonsense about how the snow is going to devastate all of our lives.
Am I the only person alive who absolutely adores the snow? The moment I see small white flakes falling from the sky I know that Christmas is on its way and I’m filled with an uncontrollable sense of well being. So much so that Lee and I erected the Christmas tree early last night.
I know that a lot of injuries are caused by the snow, I know a lot of people can’t get to work and I know we can’t all afford to turn up the heating, but it’s going to snow so why not just enjoy it? Hundreds of injuries are caused by rain, wet leaves, even the sun (skin cancer) so why do we blame the snow for so much?
I was meant to be riding horses in the peak district today, but that’s not going to happen. I don’t feel the need to complain though, I’ll just build a snowman or start a snowball fight instead- that’s not childish; it’s just knowing how to have fun.
After all didn’t the song go I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas? If it was written in 2010 I’m pretty sure the lyrics would have been I’m Dreaming of a Dry Christmas…
Get out and enjoy the snow: It’ll probably have melted tomorrow.