i get inordinately happy when we have inclement and rare weather. and yes, i did get out of bed at quarter to three in the morning just to enthuse about the fact that little flecks of frozen water are falling from the sky... i'd be doing exactly the same if there was a whopping great thunderstorm going on, though admittedly, that wouldn't be the best idea...
and, you know, if i lived in a place where we had snow about 30% of the year, or thunderstorms of gargantuan proportions, i probably wouldn't be as happy about it. but since i'm in britain, which gets snow only if its lucky and thunder only if the universe deems it worthy, getting either of these results in my brain being very happy indeed. when there's thunder, my mind buzzes, literally. when it snows, i become a three-year-old.
right now, you know what i want to do? go outside and dance in the snow like kim boggs. i mean, definite bonus if johnny depp is carving ice sculptures up on the hill to make it, but, y'know, dancing in snow is something i haven't done in ages. and i would do, if not for the fact that i'm already in my pyjamas, and possibly the halls' residents would think me insane, and i'll probably come down with pneumonia or something, which wouldn't be good since i'm working tomorrow night and saturday.
i really, really want a snowball fight. i mean, really. do you have any idea how long it's been since i had a proper snowball fight? it must be at least five years, possibly more. the last one i remember having was at school, during exam leave, in - i think - year 11. there were first years looking out of the windows at us, being jealous. i was accused of throwing a snowball at one of the workmen who were building the new common room at the time. it was the same year that jen, vickie and i built a snowman on the school field, and rolled a giant snowball from one end to the other. snowball fights are mandatory. and vicky (flat-vicky) is in birmingham so i can't even drag her out tomorrow for one. bugger.
like i said, snow makes me turn into a three-year-old. it's just one of those things, like building sandcastles and playing with balloons and having pillow fights. these are the things in life that allow you to relive your childhood, no matter how old you are.
and i think the reason i love snow so much is that we hardly ever get any, and it seems like we get less and less every year. i fear that snow may be obliterated entirely from the british weather system. what happened to frozen victorian winters with three foot of snow? what happened to snow that lasted for days, long enough that you could actually have fun in it before it melted? i remember when i was about four years old, at the house in stourbridge, in a cerise pink snowsuit (seriously...) playing outside in the snow, for about three days in a row. if this is even there when i wake up tomorrow, it'll be a miracle.
also, you know what upsets me the most? people that complain about it. people who, when snow is forecast, merely grumble under their breath, frown, say "oh, great, now it'll be a bugger to get to work, i'll have to leave an hour early, rant, rant, rant, complain, complain, complain..." i mean, yes, it must be awkward when you drive... but spare a thought for those of us who still have souls, for those of us for whom snow means nostalgia and beautiful landscapes. don't chastise it. it may never return.
the same is true of thunderstorms. i know they're dangerous to drive in - once, lightning landed in front of our car when driving along the motorway - but haven't you ever drawn in breath when lightning crashed into distant hills? don't you even get the slightest urge to go and run around in the rain? doesn't the sound of the thunder make your heart beat faster?
one thing's for certain. i never, ever want to become one of those people. the day i complain about snow, or thunderstorms, or kids playing with balloons, i want one of you to remind me what i'm missing. throw a snowball at the back of my neck, put me outside in the downpour, whack me on the head with a balloon, do whatever it takes. i refuse to be one of them...