I really really really love snow. It's that inner child in me. Plus the fact that I have a birthday around Christmas, yet it never snows on my birthday/Christmas. My youngest sister was born on the 27th January, and every year, from the year she was born until at least her fifth birthday, it snowed. On her birthday. Every. Single. Fricking. Year. Is it really that much to ask for a white Christmas?
Plus I just like to wear my wellies.
I'm a little disappointed that there isn't more of it. It was snowing pretty hard last night around 10pm, but we have barely two inches down here in Brighton. I remember in November 2010, there was maybe ten inches up in London. That was the year when I walked the best part of six miles home from school with a friend. It was ... an experience, to say the least.
It'll be all slushy and stuff tomorrow, unless it snows a lot more overnight. Not that I would mind, because I have a presentation to give on Monday that I wouldn't mind not doing, but then it would ruin my snowman.
Of course I built a snowman. I had intended it to be smaller, but then I thought, why the heck not? because it'll be all horrible and black sludge later, and went a little bigger. I have yet to think of a suitable name, but here's a picture taken with the crappy camera on my phone. The picture at the top is the view from the porch of my house.