Posted by: pandamoanimum | December 6, 2010

(Don’t) Let it snow!

I hate snow. There, I’ve said it.

I know there are many adults who love it when it snows, but I’m not one of them. To me, becoming a grown up wasn’t about paying my first bill or refusing a second glass of wine because it was a ‘school night’ (actually I’m not sure I’ve ever done that). It was the first time it snowed and I cursed it rather than being giddy with excitement.

Whilst I have a list of things that make me dislike snow so much, I think my biggest grievance is the way that even the lightest dusting can bring such chaos to the country. How the wrong sort of flakes on the line stops trains from running and how mass hysteria breaks out as people feel compelled to surge en masse to buy vast rations of bread and milk. Now personally I’ve never really understood why these items suddenly become such essential commodities if snowbound, but it’s like we’re almost programmed to loot and pillage the supermarkets for such ‘necessities’ at the slightest hint of a predicted flurry. (And if the rest of the country has flurries, does Scotland have McFlurries?)

The last time the approach of snow was announced by the weather bods on the telly (well they never get these things wrong, do they?) I felt duty bound to head immediately to the nearest shops for essentials. I returned home with a new pair of shoes, chocolate, wine and an ant farm, but without bread and milk. The bread had already sold out and the milk, well I just forgot that.

I will admit, albeit grudgingly, that the cold, wet stuff has some appealing qualities. Like the way it transforms even the grimmest of settings into a picturesque scene (for the short space of time before it turns to grey slush that is) and how satisfying it is to crunch across the virginal pristineness of a freshly fallen carpet of snow. Although every time it snows, 1000’s of women across the country have to mourn the perishing of their Ugg boots after mistakenly believing they double up as both a fashion statement and a suitable substitute for wellingtons.

And I suppose I do get a warm fuzzy feeling inside when I see the looks of exhilaration on my children’s faces when they see the settled snow has turned outside into a wintery playground. Albeit a fuzzy feeling that soon fizzles out when it then takes 20 minutes to locate all their appropriate snow attire, 15 minutes to kit them out in the aforementioned items and 10 minutes for me to sort out and hang up those garments when they’ve left them in a sodden puddle on the floor. This is after they’ve spent approximately 5 minutes in the garden before complaining that it’s too cold and sodded off back indoors to watch Nick Jr whilst leaving me to complete the snowman we’ve started making. (Because I’m somewhat OCD/a devotee of Magnus Magnusson: “I’ve started so I’ll finish”)

So, there it is. Apologies to the snow lovers out there, I just don’t like it. But, as winter and snow sort of go hand in hand, really all I can do is grit my teeth…and that’s snow joke.



  1. My dachshund Monty Burns is not a great fan of the snow either. He can hack sleeping in a warm house for hours on end, but when nature calls and the snow is above two inches a certain place belies the hot dog epithet.


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