Wednesday, 24 October 2012


I have a love hate relationship with snow. I love to slide across it on Skis but haven't done that for 20+ years but my Ski boots still travel with me. I love the way it looks, especially the non UK variety which is cleaner and lasts for months.  In a country that is prepared for snow and doesn't grind to a halt.
There is nothing better than to look out from a Hotel room on to a world which is white and feel the warmth of the sun, the most glorious feeling is to stand in a T-Shirt in the Sun at -2C and feel warm. It has a crisp dryness which the UK weather doesn't have.
Those that hate snow have never seen it in all its majesty coating a mountain, it is a sight and a feeling that modern fabrics have made delightful, even to just sit at an Austrian bar in the Beir Garden or near the top of an Alp and drink a cold beer is so strange as to be new, more different than a visit to the Costas.
UK snow is horrible it is thrown about indiscriminately by little kids and makes me angry. It blocks roads it turns into a hideous dark mass which just sit around, and look like a pile of shit.
Once it even stole my girlfriend, it allowed itself to be written in outside her house in Stafford and while it may have taken 2 years the msg got through and in the end she married the man that the snow had prostituted itself too. For years I could not look at snow without feeling anger and pain, I had loved it and it had betrayed me.

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