SNOWBALLS

I knew at midnight that I'd be working from home today. The promised snow had arrived and had coated the world like icing on a cake.

It was bright. There's something about fallen snow, as though it contains its own kind of light. The night-sky was green, the park, the fences, the sheds and the gardens were all illuminated and freshly lit white - immaculate, untouched; there wasn't a sparrow-print to be seen.

It's different now. The off-school crowd have trampled parts of the park back to green bald patches, and the blanketed tree-tops have shaken off their wintry arms in tumbling dust-falls of snow. Kids drag plastic sleds up the hill and throw wet snowballs through the air in whoops of delight.

So anyway, home I stayed. I have a cold too - I'm currently wrapped up in my duvet, sniffling at my laptop. I keep hurting my back from sneezing, which I'm sure isn't normal, but there it is. At least I'm warm.

And with no desire to be out in it. Funny how our attitude to snow changes with age. Perhaps it becomes less of a novelty and more of a picture. Less participation, more spectating.

There is still value in the experience though, I suppose. I might have gone for a walk, had it not been for this pesky virus. Though I don't think I'll be out there lobbing snowballs any time soon.