Skip to main content

A night of going snowhere fast


Now that we’re already bored with the mild, rainy weather, it’s worth bearing in mind that just seven days ago we were in the grip of Snowmageddon.

With snowy weather having already made most of the rest of the country look unbearably cute, it was finally our turn, with a Met Office Amber Warning thing in place, just to make it extra worrying.

It didn’t disappoint. With a little snow for much of the day doing a pretty good warm-up routine, the main act arrived late afternoon, and successfully turned any journey started after about 4pm into a winter blunderland. We soon realised we weren’t getting home that night, and not fancying spending it in a Mitsubishi Colt, opted for a nearby hotel. The bed was lumpier than the mashed potatoes I endured at primary school, but at least we were safe, excessively warm, and able to enjoy the company of all 5 of the other guests, who were nearly outnumbered by the staff.

Venturing outside later, it was clear there was more snow that I’d seem for years, and we frolicked briefly, until the sound of branches snapping under the weighty white stuff sobered us up rapidly, and with a cloud of icy powder to gently remind us that it might be pretty, but it’s also bloody dangerous too.

Still, it was the most perfect snowman stuff ever, and the speed at which a giant snowball could be rolled was amazingly cartoon-fast. I felt weirdly exhilarated, like a kid again with the wonderment of it all, but without the concerns of losing a glove, coming home with soggy trousers, or getting told off for being late for tea.

Ironically, a clean-socks shortage meant I’d dug out an old pair knitted for me twenty years ago, so someone is definitely still keeping an eye on me. Thanks, Mum.

At least the TV News Snow Bingo is over for now. Never played it? For every clichéd bit of coverage of any of the following, you score a point. First to get all 10 wins:
  • A reporter stood outside, in the snow (in case we didn’t know what it looks like)
  • A reporter at a gritting depot (because grit is really hard to imagine, none of us ever having seen any on a road, or tumbling out of the back of a gritter lorry, removing the paintwork from our cars)
  • Cars being pushed by people wearing woolly hats
  • Kids on sledges
  • A reporter stood outside a closed airport (because we can’t image what that would look like by ourselves) or train station (it’s like a regular train station, but without any trains, apparently. Who knew?)
  • Any mention of the phrase “panic buying”
  • Any people from other countries laughing, looking bewildered, and generally failing to comprehend how we can be so thoroughly hopeless when it snows
  • A reporter on a bridge over a motorway, so we can see the lack of cars on it
  • Ducks on a frozen pond (Ha! Look! They’re confused!)
  • John Snow
This article first appeared in my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday' column in the North West Evening Mail on Friday 1st February 2013. You can view the version used online here In a strange new twist, although this column was already over the 500 word limit, the paper used it in it's entirety, including the title, and ADDED an extra word somewhere. I've not figured out which one it is yet...

The first draft of the column was even longer, clocking in at around 600 words, leading me to heavily edit, and drop an entire paragraph. You didn't miss much, honest.

(Top-notch tunes today courtesy of Queen's final album, Made In Heaven.)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Shouting in the social media mirror

It was always tricky to fit everything you wanted into the intentionally short character count of Twitter, especially when, like me, you tend to write ridiculously long sentences that keep going on and on, with no discernible end in sight, until you start wondering what the point was in the first place. The maximum length of a text message originally limited a tweet to 140 characters, due to it being a common way to post your ramblings in Twitter’s early days. Ten years later, we’ve largely consigned texting to the tech dustbin, and after a lot of angst, the social media platform’s bigwigs have finally opted to double your ranting capacity to 280. Responses ranged from “You’ve ruined it! Closing my account!” to the far more common “Meh” of modern disinterest. As someone rightly pointed out, just because you have twice as much capacity doesn’t mean you actually have to use it. It is, of course, and excellent opportunity to use the English language correctly and include punctuat...

A fisful of change at the shops

A recent day out reminded me how much the retail experience has altered during my lifetime – and it’s not all good. I could stop typing this, and buy a fridge, in a matter of seconds. The shops are shut and it’s 9pm, but I could still place the order and arrange delivery. I haven’t got to wander round a white-goods retail emporium trying to work out which slightly different version of something that keeps my cider cold is better. It’ll be cheaper, too. But in amongst the convenience, endless choice and bargains, we’ve lost some of the personal, human, touches that used to make a trip to the shops something more than just a daily chore. Last weekend, we visited a local coastal town. Amongst the shops selling over-priced imported home accessories (who doesn’t need another roughly-hewn wooden heart, poorly painted and a bargain at £10?) was one that looked different. It’s window allowed you to see in, rather than being plastered with stick-on graphics and special offers calling ...

Making an exhibition of yourself

Now and again, it’s good to reaffirm that you’re a (relatively) normal human being. One excellent way of doing this is to go to a business exhibition. Despite what you might have surmised from reading my previous columns, I am employable, and even capable of acting like a regular person most of the time, even joining in the Monday morning conversation about the weather over the weekend, and why (insert name of footyballs manager here) should be fired immediately. The mug! True, there are times, often involving a caffeine deficiency, where it is like having the distilled essence of ten moody teenagers in the room, but I try and get that out of the way when people I genuinely like aren’t around to see it. As part of my ongoing experiment with what others call ‘working’, my ‘job’ involves me occasionally needing to go and see what some of my colleagues get up to outside the office, and what our competitors do to try and make sure that they do whatever my colleagues do better than ...