An Antarctic blast, which the Metservice is describing a one in fifty year event, is currently bitchslapping the country. It's been greeted with delight by those regions who never get to see snow while others, understandably, are a little snow weary.
Look what I thought tonight.
‘Snow flakes, flattening themselves on my kitchen window.
Do they want to come inside, to be warm and dry?
Shouldn’t think so – that’ll make them dead.
They probably just drew the short straw – onto a window, slide down, that’s that, end of commitment, next please.
Can’t you just hear them - “Head Office never told us what very mucky windows we could encounter.”
“Think how clean we’ll leave them.”
“Pollyanna yourself. I’ve had my photo taken.”
“Why’d anyone want your photo? You’re just a smear down a glass slab.”
“He took a photo with a flash. That means – in case you didn’t know – he would get all my individual shapes. My own pattern will be captured – for ever –. He’ll very probably post it on Twitter and I’ll be immortal.”
As she slid into wet oblivion at the bottom of the window, she looked sideways. He was all crumpled and out of shape.
Smiling to herself, she gathered her sides to her middle, shut her eyes, and glided into history.’
I might make more of this, but can you see them sliding down the window?
I LOVE that story, unfortunately I'd better head for the hills, cause she's going to have my guts for garters when she discovers I've posted it.