I think I should live in Canada or the North Pole or Norway. Anywhere that has copious amounts of snow every year because I just love it.
The adult in me always says, “Oh no! It’s going to cause chaos.” We have to change plans, manage with one car, arrange our days round the car, pick up the post from the post office because they won’t come near us once the snow appears. In short, it causes major disruption to our lives and yet I still love it.
It has the effect of instantly bringing out my inner child (never far from the surface at the best of times). When the snow is falling, as it is now, I can’t stop myself from going over to the window every few minutes to squeal with delight. The heavier it falls, the louder I squeal. Anyone would think I’d never seen it before.
The weather forecasters seem to know about my love of snow and tease me with it mercilessly. When I take a look at the 5 day forecast, it always seems to be two or three days away. The number of times they’ve promised me snow and then downgraded it to rain or to nothing at all is heartless in the extreme. I’ve written and complained to them that “I WANT MY SNOW. YOU PROMISED ME SNOW!’
They’ve delivered it today, huuuuuuge, white, fluffy drifts or perfect, slippery, dangerous, gorgeous snow. (Hold on – I have to go and have another look out the window).
In truth I could have done without the howling gale that’s arrived with it but you can’t have everything. I’m just happy it’s snowing. I’ll be getting my wellies on later and making the most of it before it goes away again.
A few days ago I had occasion to take one of my close friends to the A & E unit. When I say A & E unit what I really mean is the Portakabin outside the hospital.
Luckily it was early in the afternoon not late in the evening when we might have been privy to the local wino’s daily A & E pantomime. As it was there was mostly just an assortment of of people, old and young, with injuries caused by people slipping on ice and smacking bits of themselves against lamposts and the like.
My friend and me sat at one side of the waiting room against a wall and there was a block of chairs separating us from the young man who caught my eye sat across from us against the opposite wall. He was shuffling round in his seat quite a lot and making noisy phone calls to a succession of people who seemed not to know who he was, a point that was clearly beginning to frustrate him. Eventually he gave up on the phone calls and went quiet for a while.
Then he leaned forward in his seat, we thought he was going to be ill so we kept a wary eye on him for any signs of projectile vomit as he was directly opposite us, putting us in his line of fire. The next thing we noticed was that he was holding a bottle down to the floor and I could see that some kind of liquid was being put into it. “Oh no!! He’s peeing in a bottle’…..is he? Closer (discreet) inspection revealed that the liquid was pink and sparkling. Probably not pee then.
It turned out he was decanting Rose Lambrini from a large bottle hidden in his coat into a smaller pop bottle so he could swig out of it openly and not get challenged as everyone would think it was pop. Clever eh? I wish I’d thought of it. I could have done with a g & t just about then. Our emotions ranged from ‘let’s get the hell out of here’ to pity for the young chap who could have been more than 25 years old and was in such a state.
My God, you see life in an A & E unit, don’t you?
I was having a clean up of all my email boxes this morning and I found this one which I’d forgotten about. It made me laugh, hope it gives you a little chuckle as well. This man has the best name in the world:
It’s probably the moustache that does it.
Then there’s this chap:
You’d probably want him on your side, eh?