So I've had this long standing love affair with snow. As soon as I've packed away my witches broom and composted the pumpkins at the start of November, I'm dreaming of a White Christmas, romanticising over huge flakes falling past the window (cleaned especially) while I lounge by a roaring fire with a hot toddy, or a Baileys and ice, or eggnog, or anything alcoholic basically. But, I fear that the relationship snow and I have enjoyed for a lifetime, is hitting the rocks. Yep......counselling we most certainly need if we are to continue harmoniously together. My radiators are drying off baseball boots, I marooned my car in a giant pothole, I had no means to then collect the coal for the romantic fire that would make this white stuff bearable, and I have work at 8am tomorrow, and am most certainly not relishing pulling on fleeced and scarfs and wellies at 7:30.
December, dear snow, is ALL good with me, but March? Piss off. Even The Moo, by trade a snow loving dog, thinks this is a bleeding joke, and would very much like to see the sky and a few green leaves