Of endless snow and flying
05.01.10, 11:00 pm

Oh Christ, the snow. It just won�t stop. The walk to work has become a hideous, endless, heart-attack-inducing nightmare, and then when I finally get there I have to put my boots in the oven to dry off and then spend the morning wandering around the floor in my socks and scarf like a bewildered homeless person. All of my pairs of jeans are damp at the ends, I�ve given up wearing mascara, and I�ve even gotten out the unflattering red beanie and am wearing it in public.

See, I�m torn with the snow. A tiny, childish part of me gets an instant thrill upon seeing it, and proceeds to trill, �More snow, mooooore! MORE MORE MORE! More snow so that you can�t tell what is road and what is pavement! More snow so that the bushes blend into the trees and we have to swim to get around! MOOOOOORRRRREEEEEE!�. And then the larger, adult part of me feels a flash of irritation, and monotones, �No no no. No. I have to get to work, because I physically can and would feel too guilty staying at home when there are people from Rotherham battling in. And walking in the snow makes me tired and grumpy, and my extra heartbeat loathes it, and besides I�m getting really bored of Being A Good Samaritan and pushing stupid stuck cars back up hills.�

Have just rang Mel, and we spent a good twenty minutes moaning about the snow, until I panicked and brought a halt to proceedings because we were starting to sound like two particularly twattish copies of the Daily Mail.

Anyway, I�m back in Sheffield after a thoroughly alcoholic festive period, and am already utterly bored by work. I hate January so, so much. It has the horrible anniversary in its midsts, it�s cold and miserable, and it�s devoid of money because I got paid relatively early in December and am now broke. If anyone would like to take me away on holiday somewhere, then that would be fantastic.

So yes, Christmas was fine. Mave made me eat my weight in meat and roast potatoes, and then forced wine and port onto me (read: my suggestion). I died of heat exhaustion several times over, owing to her insistence on keeping the central heating at a balmy 24 degrees centigrade DAY AND NIGHT. And every time I tried to sneak the thermostat down a couple of degrees she managed to clock me and turn it back up again. Between this and my sister talking in her sleep constantly and my gran�s insane pillows that suffocated you if you so much as breathed, I got bugger all sleep for three days.

Finally got up to Dumfries on the 27th, after a hideous train journey. I then spent a week getting utterly sozzled every night, thanks to James�s dad excellently stocked drinks cupboard. The horrible big family gathering passed smoothly enough, though I was clock-watching for the entire time and had to feign interest in curling for about an hour, and the wedding that we went to on New Year�s Eve went well also. The Catholic wedding service was a little gruelling (hour and a half with full mass, anyone?) and I was made to sing Shine Jesus Shine, but the meal and ceilidh in the evening was ace. Midnight was seen in with a huge mass Auld Lang Syne (stirring hummed version by me) and a kiss with the boy. And then more alcohol back at James�s parents house. My liver�s just fine, thanks for asking.

It�s nearly bedtime, so I�ll have to wrap up soon. I think we�re booking Alaska soon, which fills me with equal measures of excitement and terror. I do not want to be blown up somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. I do want to go and visit the mooses. Oh God, somebody do the flying part for me. Please.

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