The Snow

I got the news from the radio. I was lazing on my bed, trying to stir back to life after eight hours of sleep, when the weatherman on the radio said it had snowed. I got up and opened my curtians. Outside, on the grass, on top of hedges, flowers, walls, white blankets had appeared. The first snow of the year. It would have been disappointing to let winter pass without snow.

So, it's snowed in all five winters I've been in London. Despite the downside of it, the severe cold, the sludge appearing as the snow thaws, the winter is never complete without snow. Like bonfire nights, liked Christmas, snow is also a celebration. At least in London it should be, because of its rarity.

It snowed a lot in my first season here. Two days of continuous snow made me feel like romance gone sour. After the jubilation of seeing powdery stuff unfurl in the sky, we were harassed when the freezing temperature continued unabated, the snow became incessant.

But no sooner had the snow disappeared and the roads restored to its former glory, I'd already started missing it. I wanted the next badge to arrive. It's just like celebrating Christmas with your entire family, or seeing your wife leave on a business trip. No sooner has somethings gone, you want it back again. But the elusive white mass didn't arrive until next winter, and that also in far less quantity.

This year, the weather has been as unpredictable as the mood of a pregnant girl. We've had plenty of sunshine, days when the temperature was so mild that the autumn felt it hadn't left us. Then, the much-maligned drizzle interrupted. The Londoners quietly accepted their fates, went about their life. A month back, a tornado crash-landed on a London suburb, dismantling several houses. Fierce wind then battered the hapless islanders, killing about eleven people. Only the snow was missing.

This morning, it quietly sleeps, unstirred, slowly melting away as sun threatens to burst out. Even the grey sky has an aura about it, as floor underneath shines with whiteness. The sight is pleasant indeed. It's even made my writing effervescent.