Oh the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we’ve no place to go…
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
So we’ve all been subjected to a couple of weeks of numb toes and cold noses. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look as though the cold weather is going away any time soon and nothing makes me grumpier than being cold. Even worse, like the rest of Britain, just when we thought we’d got away with it…Exeter actually did get a couple of centimetres of snow.
Much to most peoples confusion and dismay, I hate snow. I like it when it starts to fall and it is, admittedly, quite pretty to look at, but the minute I have to layer up and leave my trusty radiator’s side I get snow-rage. I know that I am outnumbered and when I express my hatred for the white stuff people look at me like I’m sporting a Scrooge-esque victorian nightgown and trying to crush their festive spirit. So I’ll bite my tongue and, whilst I silently dream of summer, share this poem with you; It’s the Guardian poem of the week, and it made even me feel a little less hostile towards the snow.
How Snow Falls
Like the unshaven prickle
of a sharpened razor,
this new coldness in the air,
of something intangible.
Filling our eyes,
the sinusitis of perfume
without the perfume.
And then love’s vertigo,
this snow, this transfiguration
we never quite get over.
Take a look at the Guardian website to view more.
Razz Editor and Society President