Post-snow trauma.

I resisted the urge to write some typical ‘it’s snowing’ post yesterday, so I am writing a typical ‘it’s finished snowing so I can go and write about the snow now’ post today. I love the snow rather a lot, always have done. It is probably the novelty of it. In Britain we have very boring weather. It’s not that hot but not that cold either. People complain about how cold it is in the winter but in reality, we have very mild weather. I have never understood why people complain about how cold it always is and then when it is really sunny, people complain it is too sunny and that they wish it was cold again. People confuse me.

Anyway, I couldn’t help the excitement yesterday when it was snowing. Giant clumps of white falling from the sky and actually sticking for once. It can’t have been more than an inch of it but by golly did it cause endless amusement. Monday is my least favourite day of the week, but a snow Monday… That is an entirely different story. Nothing helps to brighten up a dreary Monday morning like a 3 hour gap involving snowball fights with pathetic aims, eating snow and sledging with a chopping board. If anybody is wondering: snow doesn’t really taste like much. Save yourself the effort of eating some by taking my word for it. I am still not so sure it was a good idea. Plastic chopping boards also sort of work as a makeshift sledge. Sort of. It did take a few attempts to get the right technique to get it to slide, the other attempts were just us shuffling on our butts on a chopping board like crazy people. I have realised that the snow is also really bad if you want good hair. I woke up yesterday with good hair for once. Spend the break in the snow. Bam! Appeared in the next seminar with wrinkled notes, soggy clothes and hair like a drowned rat. Not the best entrance I have ever made.

The novelty of the snow from yesterday has worn off now and it was after my last seminar of the day that I realised just how likely I was to die on the way home. I live up and over a hill from the university, and while it is not the biggest hill I have ever encountered, (Nottingham is relatively flat compared to Sussex), the thought of it only being a relatively small hill is not exactly one that makes you feel better when you are staring down at a stretch of shiny certain death. I could just see the ice taunting me. “Come on chunky, try it. I dare  you. Let’s see who comes out on top.” By some miracle, I managed to make it home without falling over. It was very close though.

For two days now, the only shoes I have been able to wear are my wellington boots. It’s fine though, because any excuse to wear my wellies is a good one. The grip they provided was fantastic yesterday and I had the balance of a mountain goat, but today… Grip on your shoes is only good if there is actually something to grip. Icy hill… Not so much to grip. I was actually looking for the occasional patches of snow which my wellies could grip on. The nice safe sound of snow crunching beneath my magical wellies sounded like salvation to me. At one point, I had to resort to walking along the road because facing off with cars and trams actually seemed like it was less likely to lead to my death than my appalling luck when it comes to stretches of ice.

On a note unrelated to the snow, one of my housemates came into my room last night at a point I was almost passing out from lack of sleep. She took one look at me and said: “You look really ill.” I think that was just a nice way of her saying: ‘You look like crap but I am too polite to say so.’ She may have had a point about me looking ill though because when I looked in the mirror, I practically screamed at my reflection. The bloodshot eyes of a crack addict are not exactly the best things to spot about yourself. Apparently Jet and I both suffer from hearing problems too though. We  had viewings at the house today which were sufficiently awkward. Strangers looking around your suspiciously tidy room while you sit there awkwardly avoiding eye contact are not the most pleasant experiences. After these girls left, random conversations started on the top floor. Neither of us wanted to move so it ended up with muffled conversations taking place across the hall. Cue random moments of hilarity. I may just be easily amused though..

Jet: “Do you think they can hear us?”
Me: “Maybe, I was worried about my voice going out the open window.”
Jet: “I don’t have an open window.”
Me: “I had to get rid of the smell of noodles.”
Jet: “Floodles?”
Me: “What?”
Jet: “I heard floodles.”
Me: “I thought you said poodles.”

I probably shouldn’t find that as amusing as I do. So now.. I think I will wrap that up there. I will eventually do the challenge for this week which I actually set myself. I would have done the cinnamon challenge but I am avoiding that until I can get someone stupid brave enough to do it with me. Bucket list week, this week I feel.


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