So the Met Office, it seems, were right. I awoke this morning at the respectable hour of 10.30 to a thick covering of snow over the garden, the street, and just about everything else outside these walls. The snow is still falling; looks like we’re up to about 2 inches on the flat; the teenage single mothers are trudging through the street in their fake fur-topped jackets and spray-on jeans, scowling as they push their kids in their prams, and the Alsatian next door has choked to death in sheer ecstasy. I have a lecture at 1pm, and this might be the best excuse ever not to go. But I’m torn. A minute or two of manly scraping to unearth my car, and I could kick it into four-wheel-drive and spin off towards Campus, possibly having the most enjoyable drive of my life. Or death. Or I could stay here in the warm and skip some more lectures.
Ah, choices. I think I’ll give it a go. But not before breakfast. Ha!
This post was brought to you by the letter F for Frequency, as part of a campaign to get me posting more often. Trying to post more often and when the mood takes me, while staying true to the “say something when you say something” mission statement that started all this.
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