What is winter with no snow? Well, George Clooney’s aunt, I’m glad you asked. And sorry I paraphrased you a bit there but it aint Christmas anymore… Winter with no snow would be more convenient, certainly, but it would rob Metro writers of their annual chance to use the Giant Book of Snow Cliches (“The Big Freeze”, “Life in the Freezer”). And more importantly, it would rob small children of the chance to run about like loons and throw snowballs at their Daddies.
And gosh, was he an excited chap! At 7:30 on Sunday morning, he was cannonballing from one end of the house to the other, issuing instructions “shoes on”, “coat on”, door open!” which his dense parents failed to interpret for some reason – maybe cause it was still dark outside Roo? Who knows – but by 8:00, I had caved and got him dressed while Nathan was still showering and I was still in my PJs. Then popped him out in the back garden and closed the kitchen door. I could still see him, alright? I’m not that neglectful. Yet. When Nathan came down dressed, I packed him off into the snow too and they had a delightful half hour running around the estate.
So, where do go in London on a lovely snowy day? Why, Oxford Circus of course! Nathan and the Lodger both had to go to church for rota’d reasons and it would seem a little suspect if Roo and I didn’t make it in. Arriving in Oxford Circus to a pile of dark grey sludge, I had grand designs to take Roo to Regents Park for some more snow-related fun. Halfway up Portland Place, the buggy was sticking in the as yet unmelted snow, Roo was asleep and I’d spilt my Pret a Manger soya milk hot chocolate all over my coat. Another plan scuppered. Back to the cosiness of the University of Westminster for church then.
But here’s the thing. You’ll know by now how unscupperable I am, generally speaking. After church, Roo was awake and lively and Nathan wanted to go to HMV so we set off in search of any kind of white snow that might exist in the vicinity of Oxford St (no darling, no the grey snow, not the yellow snow, not the…is that a kebab frozen into the snow?! no, don’t touch that either)
Soho Square it was then. I realise that looking for clean snow halfway through the day in Central London was somewhat ambitious but at least the Soho Square was a muddy kind of dirty rather than a…well, Soho kind of dirty. Or maybe I’m just being oblivious. Either way, another fun half hour was spent romping around squeaking “‘snow ball! wet glove!” and throwing snow at the statue of Charles II (hey, what did he ever do for us?)
So, that was Central London in the snow. This post would be way better if we’d made it to Regents Park or St James’ or even Kennington Park. But this is our lot in life and rotas are always calling, even when there are snowmen to build. Once again, poetic. And ignores the fact that I have no idea how to build a snowman….