Snowbody’s idea of winter

I’m from a town called Luton, about three hours south from York, and we get a bit of snow each year. Prior to coming to university, I spent the summer scouring The Student Room about college ‘X vs Y’ and the Nouse and Vision freshers pages for tips on how to prepare for York and this meant I expected things. I was sure to prepare for the cold, which was supposedly otherworldly up here. I had to stock up on jumpers to ensure I was ready for the phenomena known as snow. So far, all we’ve had are the wild winds of week six, which I admit were pretty good however they lacked certain aesthetic qualities.

Walking to my lectures whilst observing the sparkle of the blanket hugging the ground would be divine, and would certainly put me in a better mood to learn. I’m disappointed that I’ve yet to see snow in York. After the first one or two snowball fights that I entertain to keep up appearances, I retreat inside, to my natural habitat: sat behind the screen of a laptop with a few soft drinks to keep me company.

Knowing that it’s snowing outside somehow makes it warmer inside. It’s also a reason to stay in and spend more time studying but inevitably you’ll end up binge-watching whatever television show your friend has recently pitched you… not that that isn’t happening anyway.

The few days of frost that precede the snow tend to generate a healthy anticipation. You tend to look at the floor a little more, to ensure you don’t slip, but you will and someone will laugh at you. Generally it’s your closest friends who’ll let out the most callous chortles and that really gets to you, not because it hurts your feelings, but because the harder they laugh the more you begin to realise that they’ll never forget this and when you’re having a good time, for example when you’re winning at monopoly for once, they’ll yank that anecdote right out of the air and tarnish your moment of greatness. Just like the snow, your time on top is simply ephemeral.

I still have not given up hope. I’m sure that one of these days, on those rare occasions that I open my curtains, I’ll see some fluffy precipitation that’ll make me smile inside. I’ve always supported global warming but the problem has never really hit home quite like it has now. Snow is precious to me, and I’m sure to you too, because it provides a change of scenery to the arrogant spring and suffocating summer. Autumn is just sad, because everything is dying, which is never pleasant, unless you like that kind of thing.

One comment

  1. This should be in a blog, not the comment section of a newspaper.

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