I’m Not a Fan of Snow

Mark Popular, Uncategorised 8 Comments

I’m not a fan of snow.

It all started back when I was seven years old. My sisters and I were having a snowball fight in the street.

At the time my Auntie was visiting from America with her then partner, Chad.

I was hiding behind a car, and as I raised my head above the bonnet I heard a whistling sound. The rest is a little hazy.

I remember seeing Chad across the road.

I remember something white hurtling towards me.

I remember coming round in a bush with the snow around me resembling the aftermath of a Polar Bears seal supper.

You see Chad was the all-American hero tit. Loud, brash, and a pro-college baseball pitcher.

He’d launched a snowball from across the street that’d hit me slap bang in the face and burst my nose open. Thrown so hard only the neighbours hedge had prevented me sailing into another postcode!

I’m not a fan of snow.

Fast forward twenty-five years and I had a date with an old school flame. It was snowing.

I was at a gig that night, so we’d arranged to meet for a drink afterwards. I was very excited.

For some unknown reason I’d decided to wear my new plimsolls; the ones with no grip.

Getting to the train station was difficult enough. I must have slipped over half a dozen times on the way and by the end was pulling myself along walls, lampposts, and anything fixed to the ground.

The gig however was really good, I saw Laura Veirs in a basement. Me and only a dozen others.

After it’d finished I skated back to the train station. Approaching the busy main road I stopped, or at least my top half did. My legs decided it was safe to cross. It wasn’t.

With my life in the hands of an approaching taxi I reached out for something to cling on to. A temporary road works sign wasn’t the best choice.

Now for any attention seeker reading this may I suggest a combination of screeching tyres, a high-pitched scream, and the clatter of metal road signs.

It was a Saturday night in Manchester. It was very busy!

Now aside from the obvious embarrassment I at least had a lot of people on-hand to help me up. Or so I thought.

The good Samaritans turned out to be a group of teenagers, who instead of lifting the road sign off my face decided what I really needed was to be pelted with snowballs from point-blank range. My groin took a battering.

Eventually I crawled out from beneath the twisted metal and stumbled the remaining hundred yards to the station.

I took comfort from the fact it couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong.

As my train approached I had a flashback to that whistling sound from twenty-five years previous. I was seven all over again. Only it wasn’t a flashback.

From the opposite platform came a snowball, thrown with such accuracy it hit me, once again, straight in the face.

Probably thrown by Chad.

Now a wiser man would have cut his losses and gone home. I however had a date. Did I mention it was an old school flame I’d not seen for over twenty years?

Undeterred I headed to the bar and there she was, looking every bit as beautiful as I remembered.

I bought a drink and went over. She looked me up and down, made her excuses, and left.

It was only when I went to the toilet that I realised why.

You see I forgot to mention that at the Laura Veirs gig she’d passed round a jar of glitter she wanted everyone to smear across their cheeks. It was very new-age. It was also quite an intimate gig.

As the glitter reached me I didn’t want to be the only person out of the dozen who declined the offer.

I’d forgotten this by the time I left.

What I saw looking back at me in that toilet mirror was the love-child of Boy George and the make-up counter in Debenhams.

The glitter was still smeared across my face. Thanks to the snowball and road sign I looked like I’d had blusher applied by a drunken clown.

I also looked like I’d wet myself.

I’m not a fan of snow.

Comments 8

    1. Post

      I was writing this at 4am. I’d stupidly looked at the weather report last night and it mentioned snow.

      I woke up in a panic and couldn’t get back to sleep. I think I need to see a snow therapist!

    1. Post
    1. Post
  1. Mark, you never fail to make me laugh! Well, just think – if your date stayed and you guys really got on and rekindled the flame… Then you wouldn’t be with your lovely wife and adorable little boys! Life eh? … You’ll never know what’s thrown at you… Or in your case, you do and it’s usually snow! 🙂

    1. Post

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *