The Sweet Song of Snow (or 'sssssssssss')

This morning as Shoes and I walked together to the station, anyone watching us would have seen what appeared to be a happy couple, hand in hand, strolling leisurely along the snowy banks of the River Wandel, looking into each other's eyes and laughing. Aaah, so sweet.

In fact this is not what was really going down. We were indeed looking into each other's eyes and laughing, but not about romantic coupley type things. We were actually cackling as we spurred each other on to think up increasingly inventive ways in which to peg in the arctic weather conditions. Such as:

Lopz: If someone kidnapped you, took off all your clothes and buried you under 6 inches of snow with only your nostrils sticking out, how long do you reckon it would take before you kicked it?

Shoes: Longer than if someone dumped you in the river, fished you out and then tied you in your wet clothes to a stake in a deserted park. That should do it in a couple of hours, don't you think?

We were also holding hands, but not because we can't bear to be apart for a minute. The roads were iced up, and we were hanging onto each other for dear life as we'd determined from the get go that if one of us was going to wipe out, the other one was going down too godammit!

Ah, sweet love. It's no wonder eskimos have such different traditions to us - people in permanently snowy countries must be a bit mental to survive.