After dire predictions about an apocalypse the likes of which the country had not seen for some time, the much talked about and endlessly forecast snow finally arrived last night. An entire inch of it. Given the news headlines you might wonder if White Walkers had descended on the country. Apologies if you have not read or watched Game of Thrones – just think about an army of the un-dead emerging from the snow – not that we have much snow for them to walk from. Maybe they would be localised? That doesn’t really make for a good apocalyptic story, does it – regional marches of the un-dead.
The alarm clock went off at 6am this morning. For a few moments I wondered what on earth was going on, but then remembered my other half works in an infant school – she’s “the lady on the front desk”. Calls were made, council websites were updated, and local radio stations were informed – no school today.
After jumping into the shower – coincidentally the warmest room in the entire house – I got dressed, and dug the work laptop from my backpack – clearing the desk in the junk room to make way for another day fighting the good fight with the leviathan I have been working on for the last year. Concentrating on any work at all has been made more difficult by a house full of children that seem to think the only volume available to them is “shout as loud as possible”. As far as they are concerned “snow day” means “go shopping for chocolate”, and then “play monopoly on the bedroom floor”. I keep hearing shouted accusations of cheating, and all manner of really quite nasty threats.
I’ve switched the old Apple Mac on in the corner of the junk room, in the forlorn hope that it might generate a kilowatt of heating energy while streaming internet radio, and showing a screen saver. I don’t think it’s working.
I don’t really remember “snow days” when I was young – but that may be because most children lived within walking distance of the schools – and by walking distance, I mean a couple of miles. I’m always amazed while cycling to work at how few children walk to school – and how many more cars appear (no doubt ferrying their precious children to school) if it rains. Do children dissolve if they get wet these days? Actually, I do remember a few snow days – back in the early 1980s, when the UK was clobbered pretty damn hard. The primary school I attended had huge cast-iron radiators lining many of the classrooms – they hurt like hell if you caught your knees on them. While the radiators would probably operate quite happily for several thousand years, if exposed to the cold they promptly turned their contents to ice, and burst – flooding classrooms and corridors very efficiently indeed.
Anyway. I think it’s time to make a cup of tea. Almost the weekend.