Snow

I love snow.

I love the crunchy squeaky noise when you walk in it and the way walking in deep snow feels. I love walking where no one else has walked and leaving my own little trail. I love watching it fall and being outside and catching snowflakes on my tongue.

I hate the fact that this morning when I got to work the town centre was grey and slushy and depressing, no hint of the snowy loveliness I'd just waded through (in the park, I went right across the grass and got funny looks). I hate the people who seem to think that cos it's snowed they don't need to clean their dog poo up (no, I didn't tread in any).

Most of all I hate the idiot driver who speeded up at the crossing tonight when the lights turned red and absolutely fucking SOAKED me. Bastard. I'd stood right back to avoid it, then the lights went red when he was well away from them and I stepped forward and he sped up to go through. If I was less cautious I'd have been in the road in front of him. So yeah, he's a wanker.

But on a lighter note, my cats are undecided about snow. Foley made a snow angel cat in the back garden, and Esme had a fight with a snowy bit of hedge. Now they are both right next to the radiator and looking grumpy.

But I still love snow.