It snowed the other day. I could tell from the light through the gap in the curtains and the muffled silence. The kids came into our room at 6.45am in high excitement and loaded with a comprehensive legal argument about how they had to stay off school because of the ‘dangerous’ roads and the ‘risks of travel’. I caved. I always cave. I hated school, and screw it, they’ve barely been this year anyway and haven’t turned in to deadbeats or junkies yet. Mark Twain said you shouldn’t confuse your schooling with your education, and he was right.
Twenty minutes later they were heading out in the dangerous white wilderness yelping and hooting with happiness to play in the snow, sledging, building snowmen (and women) using the dustbin for the body mould (try it, its brilliant and quick), and lying in the snow doing angel wing shapes. I know everyone else likes a white Christmas, but I’ll pass thanks.
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