According to the news, which seems shocked that the weather's actually doing what it's meant to do in the final month of the year, Britain has been plunged into a bleak, bleak midwinter. People are looking at snow and dropping dead, and small children's tears at the lack of electronic goods arriving in the post are freezing on their tiny little cheeks. Personally, I adore winter. Every bit of it. I love the snow, I love the general feeling of Merriness and seasonal cheer from most people, but there are certain parts of Winter I love more than anything.
Kids in winter are great. Not the arsey little sods that snowball you and those around you and think it's hilarious, but little kids in antlers and babies dressed like Christmas puddings. I saw a little girl today who was so wrapped up and had a coat so very large that her arms were stuck out at right angles from her body and she actually couldn't put them by her sides. She didn't seem to care, she was just trying to get to a Charlie and Lola book.
I even like Chavs in winter, purely because they don't want to put real coats on, and so are always obviously freezing. I saw one try to throw a snowball yesterday, misjudge his strength and just topple over. His friends laughed, I laughed, and I felt then that the spirit of Christmas was truly with us.
Even the walk to Morrisons, and very probably my walks to work next week, seem nicer in the snow. There were more people walking, it was dark and quiet and most everyone seemed happy to be out there. I stood in my drive and it was dead quiet apart from two people singing Jingle Bells. Because at Christmas, in the snow, you can legitimately sing outdoors, and no one really minds.
As Wizzard once put it, If you're skating in the park, and the snow clouds paint it dark, then your rosy cheeks are gonna light my merry way.