I've been hibernating, albeit keeping myself busy on the new book. But I think, after 43 years on the planet, I've come to the conclusion that snow and me just simply don't go together. I have sworn more in the last few days than I probably have done in my life time. I've probably been (and probably still am) a demon to live with and The Farmer, I have noticed, is spending rather a lot of time with the sheep. Better company I shouldn't wonder. Amy had a day off on Tuesday because of the awful road conditions and I let her stay in her jim-jams until mid afternoon when she got dressed and went out sledging. When I was 13, I didn't like snow then either so I guess, looking back, there wasn't going to be much hope for me 30 years later.
My nightmare with snow started when a girl called Karen, yes, that's her real name, bullied me on my journey to and from high school and thought it was hilarious to throw snowballs at me that were laced with ice. It wasn't funny. I used to get off the bus a stop too soon just to avoid her nastiness. Why she picked on me I have no idea but I guess she saw me as an easy target. When her brother joined in I told my mum and they had to speak to Karen's parents about it because I was scared of even walking to the bus stop. My mum is a pussy cat and that must have been a very difficult thing for her to do.
Bullies have a long term effect on their victims. She wasn't the only person who bullied me at school but because she was much older, I was genuinely scared of her. And now, every time it snows, I think about that nasty bitch and the way she made my life a misery.
Amy came home from school the other day, think it was Monday, and told me a few kids had been throwing snowballs in the playground. All very harmless isn't it. Kids having fun, enjoying themselves. Then she told me one snowball hit her in the face and it really hurt. That's what happened to me when I was 13. It wasn't actually Karen who had thrown that particular snowball but someone who hadn't meant for it to hit me. As it happened, there was ice in that snowball and it cut my face. I'm all for having fun with the kids, letting them make the most of sledging and snowballs and building odd-looking structures with scarves and carrots. But don't ask me to join in because I've been at the receiving end of the snow-bullies.
Brought to you by Victor Meldrew, aka CJ.