I have an inkling that it shouldn’t really be snowing on St Patrick’s Day. And yet, tumbling out of the grey Saturday afternoon sky, are large flakes of fluffy white snow.
It’s supposed to be the season of cool breezes and hopeful sunshine! There ought to be cherry blossom and birdsong, bright yellow daffodils and green leaves, all happily waving under warm blue skies.
I’m wading through a packet of Fox’s party ring biscuits. Not to celebrate St Patrick’s Day you understand, but just because they’re here and so am I and I don’t know what else to do. I’m not Irish. I don’t like Guinness. I like colourful ring-shaped biscuits. And I’m bored.
Also, my neck if anything, is worse today, and I can barely move my head without also moving my shoulders. I look like a robot... with crumbs.
I do hope this is the last flurry of winter. It feels like it’s gone on long enough now, biting us with the wind, throwing snow, and blanketing the nation in thick grey clouds. We could do with some springtime.
“Every day’s a party!” says the packet. I don’t know what that means. While, at the Fox factory I’m sure they switch off the conveyor belts every five minutes for a boogie and a glass of prosecco, out here in the real world, every day is definitely not a party. In fact, they might want to lay off the prosecco: I just noticed that this packet has a ‘quality guarantee’ printed on it, from a fictional cartoon panda, who states that these ‘biscwits... have more yum per crumb in every bite’.
It’s come to something when quality guarantees are being given out by made-up animals. ‘Vinnie’ may as well have claimed credit for there being no snakes in Ireland.
This is my Saturday then. Watching it snow from a sugar coma, each tasty bite guaranteed by an imaginary panda.
I made a little bet with myself. The first day of March was a blizzard. On that day, I suspected that the last of the month would be t-shirt weather, with the sun sparkling through a beautiful spring day.
So far, that seems unlikely. Two weeks to go.
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