Rachael Sugden's Outsider column: Moaning about the snow is the icing on the cake
INEVER thought I'd say it but yes, I am fed up of the snow. I always considered those snow moaners were Scrooge-type characters, who wouldn't spot the potential for fun if it jumped out in front of them waving jazz hands in their face.
I always swore I would never succumb to the misery of adulthood.
But it's happened.
Snow moaners are the sort of people, I used to think, who don't like too much sand on the beach, don't like waves that are too big, don't like the summer when it's too hot and, er, sunny, don't like foreign food, don't like the cinema, don't like pubs... I could go on. Basically, they don't like anything that offers considerable pleasure, depending on your personal taste, to most other people.
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One of my old school friends falls into this category. I've always thought of him as a grumpy old man, far older than his years and pensionable long before his time.
In his world, everything has a fault, perfection is simply impossible and (oh, how nice) he makes sure you know about it. To the point where you start to feel miserable too.
One balmy spring day a few years ago we took a picnic to the beach and sat down (in jumpers) to eat sandwiches. While he'd moaned, a lot, about our plans before we even left the house we were certain he'd enjoy himself (as much as he'd ever be able to) once we got there. But he was too cold, even wrapped up in all of our discarded coats. Then he got a dusting of sand on his sandwich from an unexpected breeze so he couldn't eat another bite. And then he was hungry. So he decamped to a nearby cafe, which he later pronounced was horribly hot and the crab sandwich he ordered really bad quality and overpriced. It wasn't and isn't. It's a great cafe we'd eaten in many times but for grumpy old man, it simply wasn't good enough. You may wonder why we're friends but actually, the grumpiness is very funny and he does have some finer qualities.
So when the snow arrived last week, I took a sadistic pleasure in texting him to see how his day was going. I received a typically hurrumphy reply.
I've always loved the snow. Making snowmen, snowball fights, sledging, being "forced" to stay away from school/work for a day. I've never liked not getting paid when snowed in "against my will", but a few hours' playing outside soon puts things into perspective.
Then this week, with horror, I uttered a sentence I swore would never leave my lips: "The snow's fine if you don't have to go anywhere." Oh my God, I've become a grown-up.
This week the snow was cold and wet, not playful and enticing. The roads were treacherous and full of dangerous idiots, not a reason to stay in front of the TV.
And worst of all, the real icing on the cake, was that I actually found myself moaning about it.
Surely it's gone on long enough now? I'm happy with it for a couple of days but a week? Really?
And why are the gritters not out? And why has a snowplough not been up our road? And why is there no milk or bread left at the supermarket?