So as the entire UK probably knows by now, it SNOWED on Sunday. Nick and I were unceremoniously woken at 7:30 by two little girls who were far more excited about the prospect of playing in the snow than they were about whether Father Christmas had been or not a month ago. Did I mention we had to go and get THEM out of bed on Christmas Day? We’ve trained them far too well, obviously. Either that or the crocodiles in the moat surrounding their bedrooms are getting hungry.
Anyway, having strung them out as long as possible by telling them to get changed first (a sure guarantee of at least half an hour’s peace; they are girls, after all), we got up rather grudgingly and made breakfast while they made snow angels and a toddler sized snowman in the garden. If you know my girls at all, you will not be sitting on your chair to read this any more, having been de-seated at the idea of them going out to play in the garden at all, let alone before breakfast. They were finally tempted in by the promise of warm croissants and hot chocolate (yes I know, how ridiculously spoilt are they?).
Given their enthusiasm for the snow and the fact that it could well be our only chance this year, we decided to take the sledge up to the local park. It’s times like these when living on a hill is a blessing rather than a curse. Wait, no, this is the ONLY time. We passed several other returning sledgers on the way up and plenty of folks out clearing their driveways and in some extreme cases the pavement/road in front of their house. I’m sorry but I don’t get it. Why waste your time and energy clearing away something that will be gone in a couple of days? Can you not park on the road for a few days out of the year?? The other thing that struck me was the way snow seems to bring a community together. At one point there was a big group of neighbours standing in the road chatting and nearly everyone we passed smiled or said hello. Sad that it takes something out of the ordinary (or weather) for this to happen, but hey, we are British.
The prime sledging slope in the park was predictably crowded, but there was enough room for us and we spent a happy half hour sliding down it, which degenerated into snowball fights as the girls eventually tired of trudging back up with the sledge. When we’d all (i.e. me) had enough, we walked back down the hill with the prospect of a Greedy Italians dinner spurring us on – housewives chicken followed by caramelised orange cake. No prizes for guessing which one I made.