You lovely lovely people, who would have though that posts about Fresh Air would garner so much interest. How are you liking the series so far? What do you mean you can’t see them, they are right there in the fresh air, I wrote them with my new fresh airbrush set. Time to put on those rose tinted glasses me thinks.
Today was my best day ever for follows. Go figure, you lot are amazing! I really appreciate each new person who clicks the button.
So, here’s the thing, it’s actually really hard to write about fresh air. If you don’t believe me, try it for yourself and good luck with it, this is one time I will happily accept the resounding smack of failure.
What I am going to write about, and I suppose in some ways it is slightly connected is that fluffy white stuff that everyone likes to see at Christmas. No I don’t mean the new fleecy dressing gown you got your Granny from Primark, I mean snow!
Snow is precipitation in the form of flakes of crystalline water ice that fall from clouds.
Even I have to agree that snow is beautiful to look at, if you’re looking at it through the window of your warm living room and have nowhere that you need to be that is. The new fresh layers of powder make the world look like it has been coated in Marshmallow, and trying to walk through it certainly adds to this feeling. It’s all fun and games until it brings everything to a standstill and people get stranded.
My worst nightmare is when the snow starts to melt and then freezes turning every pavement you set foot on into an ice rink. To add to the misery wee Johnny from up the street thinks it’s a great idea to pelt you full in the face with a slushy snow blob and as you try to get away you do your own version of a comedy run, as in your legs are moving, but you ain’t going nowhere!
They are saying this is going to be the worst Winter we have had in a long time. I hope they are wrong. I don’t think either I or alien leg could cope with that kind of pressure everyday for the next 4 months. I might have to consider putting myself into hibernation and trying to convince work they want to pay me for it. There’s about as much chance of that as me writing an actual post about fresh air!
I’d like to blame Alien Leg at this point and say that she is the reason I no longer like walking in the ice and snow, as being not as steady on my feet is certainly going to prove problematic. However I’d have to endure many chants of ‘Liar Liar pants on fire’, as the truth is, I have been a big wuss for a lot longer than she has been in existence.
Ach well, at least if I make it into work on the bad days I can while away the hours chanting ‘There’s snow place like home.’