It is still bloody snowing...

It is still bloody snowing.

It won't go away. For a brief period yesterday, it looked as if the torment would finally end. It looked as if the good old British weather would break, the rain would once again fall and it would wash all the sodding white slippy stuff away.

Oh. Hell. No.

Instead, all that happened was the temperature plunged and the rain turned to snow, which then settled on the newly frozen ground. Fan-fucking-tastic. I was almost looking forward to being able to drive places again. At least all this snow has done wonders for my petrol consumption, which is currently zero for the week. Seeing as how I usually get through half a tank a week, I've technically saved £12,000.

Oh, and this second snap of snow has come just before I need to go places to do visiting Christmas related stuff. Excellent. I was already dreading the motorway drives alongside idiot folk who believe you can still get into the fast lane with a Ford Focus laden with 5 people, 500 presents and two suitcases. Now I have to deal with both those people as well as the sorts who, because of a single solitary flake of snow on the hard shoulder, think that the maximum speed limit on a motorway should be 9mph. Fantastic.

However, despite all of these calamities which have befouled my existence this week, there have been two shining lights.

The first, and if I must admit most douchebagy, was I spent about 3 hours on Facebook yesterday commenting about how awesome it is working from home on everyone who updated their status from their phones stuck in snow bound traffic. It was amazing. Sure, I got a lot of abuse and will no doubt be given a number of savage beatings but it was totally worth it. Although I think that is just people being sore about stuff. I mean, if you have been stuck in a multi story car park for 4 hours trying to get out into a town centre, it is all in good fun if someone comments that they “can't hear you over the sound of being warm and comfortable.”

The second shining light to brighten up my week is a tad more emo. Christmas is finally here.

Last night, I threw some decorations up, wrapped up all the presents I'd bought folk that had been slowly been developing into a decent sized fort in my room and watched The Muppets Christmas Carol three times. Today I've done the grand sum of sweet sod all and tomorrow the visiting of relatives begins.

Christmas is here. Each year I think “oh, it isn't all that festive this year” and grumble a bit then the festive season hits about now and all becomes well in the world. No work, no worries, no nothing except food, friends, family, presents and a hearty old drink-a-thon.

That, my dear followers, is what Christmas is all about.

Merry fucking Christmas and I will see you on the 5th of January. If I've sobered up from NYE by then.

Lots of love,
Ben

Snow!

Credit for this awesome photo goes here

Well this snow is fucking ridiculous. I mean who in the blue balled cauldron of Croydon thought it would be a great idea to make it snow just before Christmas? I mean, on Christmas snowing is more than acceptable. If anything it should be encouraged. After Christmas and around NYE too is fantastic. But in the week building up to Christmas, when people still have to get to work, go shopping, drive half way around the country to see other bits of family and do stuff which generally needs the roads to be clear and trains to run, having Ol' Jack Frost shit his white stuff all over the country is not helpful in the slightest.

I've nearly smashed my car up twice already attempting to get to places I need to be and have nearly fallen flat on my arse a few times after my dipshit neighbours decided to clear their drive ways with water. This is not a lie. I've caught a few of them running their hose down their drive to clear the snow off it. The concept of gritting and salting is foreign to these people. How they can eat their breakfast without losing all their teeth chewing on a rock baffles me.

Anyway, aside from the general disruption to the simple things in life like buying milk that snow brings, it has another down side. It makes you ill. I'm not shitting you, as an adult snow makes you ill. And you want to know why? It's all your parents fault.

When it snowed when you were a kid, your parents wrapped you up warm, sent you out with a coat and gloves and scarf and hat and thermals and spear and everything you may need for a right rip roaring old Arctic adventure. Then, when the playing was done and you got back in, they made sure that you changed out of your wet, cold clothes and put on some nice warm stuff. They may have even made you something nice and warming to eat. Oh, what a glorious time it was. Nowadays, in adult life it seems you just come in out of the cold, go to the pub and get ill. The two times it has snowed this year, I've gotten ill. The first time was back in February when we had the Superbowl party up at the O2. When we all turfed out the whole place was covered in snow, so 1,000 drunk NFL fans had a big old snowball fight. As you do. The next day I felt like shit.

Last night I was out celebrating a friend's birthday. There was already still a pretty solid amount of snow still left frosting the locality, but hey ho that good old douchebag Jack Frost decided to throw some more down. This meant that we had to play in it. It isn't like you have a choice in these things. Put a bunch of beered up early 20-somethings in the snow and we will play. Deal with it. So, we threw snowballs, did some bundles, tackled each other, tried to de-trou people and what not. It was a tremendous lark. And then we all went inside and drank some more, singing songs of the joys of Christmas.

Today, I've woken up with a thick head and a sore throat. I'm ill, and it must be the snow's fault. That fucker got me sick, and not a week before Christmas proper and all. I'm going to punch Jack Frost in the face.

Anyway, you want to know the end result of my experimentations with snow? I'm telling you, no matter how old you are you need your parents around when it snows or else you will die. End of story.

By the way, assuming I survive the night and make it to Tuesday, expect that to be the last post of the year. Christmas for me starts on the 23rd and I aim to sober up again sometime around the 5th of January.