Hello Splodgekins!
On my bus to work today I noticed something- something that hadn't been there before.
Snow. On the mountains! It hadn't been there on Thursday, the last time I made that journey. I didn't take the picture myself, but I'll take another tomorrow as I'm heading back that way again.
I was once in a play about snow- and it was talking about how there is something about waking up to snow, how it absorbs the sound and there is a certain silence that you only ever get with snow. How when you're the first person waking up and going out in the snow, it's like you're the only person left on the planet, and everyone else is... well, not dead- but not there. Like they're all on holiday on the other side of the world, somewhere far away and this untouched, deep snow is all yours.
When I got the bus back, it had started snowing in Cockermouth- and by this time it was dark. And people were still walking around town and all the Christmas lights were up and so on. And I realised that the play was right- there is something about waking up to snow that's unlike anything else, but there is also something (and sorry if my choice of words here is intolerably corny) magical about when it first starts snowing- particularly at night. It's like the weather is telling you to get ready to be excited. And there is something unavoidably christmassy about it. And as I'm in a(nother) play all about Santa, I guess its time I gave into to the festivities (I was also in a play called The Festivities) and went full on christmassy.
Today, this is me:
See you tomorrow!
-Rosa
x
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