Love The Snow/Hate The Snow

I'm stood at the front door, which leads directly into our lounge, looking out at the freshly laid, untouched, pure white Christmas card scene that the snow has created.

It fell at a steady rate last night. There is a coating about three inches deep covering everything in my street.

The thing with snow is, some of us love it, but there are others that hate it. I love it, my Dad on the other hand...

My Dad is sitting in his armchair watching the television, coffee in one hand, remote control in the other. He raises his voice slightly and with a little agitation says,

"What you doing? Shut the door you idiot!"

"I'm looking at the snow."

"Well go outside and look at it!"

"No thanks, it's freezing out there."

"It's bloody freezing in 'ere with that door open!"

"Stop moaning."

"I'll stop moaning when you pay the frigging bills. The heating's on and you're letting all the warm air out. I might as well go and set light to a ten pound note, see if I can get warm off that for a second or two."

I part close the door but there is still enough of a gap to see out.

"What's so fascinating about it anyway?"

"I love it. It's different, like magic. The trees look amazing."

"It's just a sheet of white, covering everything, yeah amazing! I tell you what it is, a bloody nightmare. It's freezing cold and causes nothing but chaos. Now shut that bloody door and come inside before I chuck you out there."

I close the door and plonk myself down on the sofa facing the tv.

"Ain't you got work today?" He asks.

"Nah, they text me, said to take the day off cos of the weather... see, that's another good thing about it, I get a day off."

"Oh yeah, great, the whole country comes to a bloody stand still the first opportunity it gets! They'll still get to the shops though. You go down the supermarket, you'll be queuing for hours. Can't get in to work but..." his sentence burns itself out halfway through.

I laugh, "you're a miserable old git." He looks at me with half a smile which tells me he realises it, but just can't stop himself.

The half smile disappears pretty quickly, he's off again, "So, you just gonna sit around here all day?"

"Yeah, probably. Not much else I can do. Can't go to the shops, they'll be packed," I look at him with a slightly smug grin.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, partly because it means I'm going to be around all day but also because I used his words against him. He tends not to like that.

"You know, when I was younger, when it snowed..."

I cut him off mid sentence, "please don't tell me how you and your mate used to go around with some salt, a shovel and a broom and clear people's pathways for a couple of quid. You tell me that every year."

"Well, you youngsters today ain't got a clue about how to cease an opportunity to make a few quid. Don't like a bit of hard work that's your trouble. And that's why the whole country comes to a stand still as soon as it sees a little flurry of the white stuff. This country has gone to the dogs mate. Bloody nanny state. In my day, we all still got to work, and they certainly never closed the schools. Totally different mentality then. We would rise to the challenge, not curl up in a little ball and lock ourselves in our houses."

He loves a bit of a rant, so I'm sure he's enjoying himself. I don't take the bait. A few moments pass and then I ask, "So, what about you? Got any plans for today?"

"No, nothing really," he says, missing the irony. I burst out laughing.

"What?" He snaps, "I've done my time boy, don't worry about what I'm doing."

Our attention turns to the tv, the news reports are of people being stuck in their cars all night on the motorway. The gritters were too slow to react to the forecast and the roads became undrivable.

"I bet those stuck there don't love the snow," he looks at me as he speaks, as though it's my fault they were in that position.

"No, but it's the same every year. We are so unprepared for it in this country. We never seem to learn."

I glance up at the window and see it's snowing again. Big flakes float down from the sky and settle on the layer that fell last night.

"It's coming down heavy now Dad, look. Like a blizzard."

I walk back over to the front door and open it. I stand looking out in the same way I had earlier.

My Dad gets up from his chair, and creeps over to where I'm stood. All of my attention is on the snow as it sends me into a hypnotic state. I place one foot out onto the crispy surface to make a print. Last night's falling had started to freeze a little but a fresh, softer layer was beginning to formon the top.

Then all of a sudden, my Dad rugby tackles me from behind and immediately snaps me out of my trance. We both end up falling head first into the snow.

"What are you doing, you nutter?"

We are both laughing.

"I told you, if you don't shut the door, I'll chuck you out of it!"

We roll around and wrestle for a bit before we help each other up and dust the snow from our clothes. I pick up a handful, make it into a ball and throw it in his face.

What I didn't realise was, there was a rock in the middle of it. It caught him right between the eyes and killed him stone dead.

Now, none of you expected that ending did you?