- March 5, 2018
Is there anything more magical than the words ‘snow day’? Perhaps not as much for an adult, but for a child the only thing that ranks higher on the list of exciting phrases is the ‘C’ word itself (I was talking about Christmas, I hope you were too). So it’s with a happy heart that I think of all the children who are waking up this week and eagerly darting to their windows to tear open the curtains and see whether they’ve had their school sentence lifted for a single day of frozen fun. Across the country memories are being made that will be discussed with so much warm fondness for years to come, all thanks to some frozen water falling from the sky at an unexpected time of the year. Nature is funny, but we humans are funnier.
I remember and treasure all my snow days as golden moments in my childhood. I was 12 years old when it snowed in April and I made my first ever snowman. I could not believe (and still can’t quite) that we had enough snow to even make a snowman (although I do remember the grass was exposed all round nearby by the time we were done!). And we didn’t even scrimp in size, it was adult size and taller than my little 12-year-old self! We gave him all the trimmings, hat, scarf, and I think it was a peach nose, probably because that was the only thing in the kitchen.
I remember standing there looking at something I never thought I would ever be able to make with the one inch of snow that we usually got at home, and being so excited to do it all again next year. Of course, English weather would never have the decency to be that predictable.
We didn’t get another proper snow day for a few years after that, by which time the childish enthusiasm had been replaced somewhat by good old fashioned English grumbling, and it was more important that I talk about how cold I was rather than how tall a snowman I could make. But this time I’m meeting the Beast Of The East with that same childhood enthusiasm. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for my snowball fight.