Chillin'
An alien subtance has infected our pavements. What is this stuff? It’s so quaint, friendly, pretty and pleasing but plaguing. Quickly, someone press the pause button before the world breaks.
Where are my cosmic boots, I need to float. There is nothing else for it, Polly…
Marvellous isn’t it.
There is not an atmospheric phenomenon embraced so gleefully as a hefty snowfall. Everyone loves getting their cosy hats out and throwing a cheeky snowball. There is also nothing as satisfying as landing that snowball precisely in your friends face.
But.. Our entire country has been swallowed by fluffy white stuff.
Unbelievable “chaos”.
Birds going hungry. Itching punters devastated as bookies slash the odds against a record temperal low this month. Gordon Brown gets hit in his good eye by God’s snowball. Shock as 4×4’s become useful. Severe delays, suspensions and closures on the London Underground.
I didn’t know it snowed underground. Although as one twitterer pointed out, not everyone was so panicked. No fuss in Albert Square.
We don’t want to learn. We’ve seen snow - and the accompanying headlines - many times before.
“£3billion cost of shambles in the snow”
Gloom. The media are only bitter because while the world around them conspires to boycott work, dig out sledges and make igloos, they’re sat admonishing their existence, reeling at photos of revellers and their snowmen, cursing away at a keyboard ‘cos the presses don’t stop. Somebody needs to galantly struggle through adversity to point out that we, and our possessions, are under attack from an evil cold dust.
I hope it does continue all week.
They did manage to outfox some of it though, I’m on a train homebound. Unfortunately all I could find was the Daily Mail, albeit containing this chilled out snow-dude.
My only bugbear is that I’ve been so suitably nested elsewhere for the past three days that I didn’t have my DSLR handy. Bleh.
Tschus.
C.
/iphone
