I could never find a personal association in my mind for the image that gets evoked by the assumed perception as to how a baby feels directly after its born and the gigantic scream it make as it comprehends the change of environment and how different and impossible everything seems.
I was on the phone to my mother this morning (its my birthday tomorrow – how fitting) and I looked out the window and wanted to scream and cry.
It’s snowing.
I hate it.
I really hate it.
What to wear? Unsteady feet, sludge, dog shit, broken bones, dead frozen birds, burning cold hands, ear ache, losing hats and/or gloves, travel delay, COLD.
A few of the more positive things I can think of for snow.
I thought after all the time I have been in London – since 1995 (were you even born then?) – you’d think I’d be used to it.
I’m not.
If anything, my snow loathing has increased through time to the point where I would throw myself under a train to avoid it all, if the trains were running on time that is.
For everyone who loves snow I am sorry to turn your snow yellow. For your sake I will add these snow loathing exclusion zones:
- and snow is improved by it being your day off
- on a postcard or calendar
- deep white snow on a sunny day
- quality fake snow
- when you see snow in canada and they freeze maple syrup on it (there was a segment on sesame street or something as a kid)
- covered in blue syrup and called a snow cone
- any time it is spelled ’sno’
