There are many, many disappointing things about getting older - realising you’ll never play for Wales (in my case) or score a century at Lords, or probably, win a Nobel prize or whatever was your childhood dream.
One of the most dispiriting came to me over the weekend.
On Friday morning I looked out of the newsroom window to see fat, wet snowflakes hurtling to the ground and settling there. It was a beautiful and thrilling sight
And all I could think was:”Oh no. I’ll bet I’m going to be stuck here tonight.” All I wanted was for the beautiful snow to turn to horrible rain, so that I could drive safely home.
Similarly, as snow blanketed the Midlands on Sunday, I did actually enjoy it.
I went out for a walk, and I enjoyed watching kids throw snowballs and on their sledges.
And then, again, I hoped that it didn’t freeze, and preferably all melted away, so I could get to work, and being on the late shift as I type, more importantly, get home.
(You think I’m kidding? I’ve got a shovel, walking poles, a sleeping bag and two flasks in the boot of the car. And a head torch. If I get stranded, West Mercia police will be showing me off as a model of preparation. I’ll probably get a medal, or something)
But really- it’s not good enough. I want to be able to take that simple child-like joy in snow, which is rare enough around here, without having to win the lottery first.* I want all you to be able to enjoy it without worrying about the state of the M5 or whether the buses and trains are running.
There are many ways we might want to change the world, so that we might improve the place- cleaner oceans, no war, an end to poverty.
We should also work out ways to organise work so that our first thought isn’t: “Please, just let it turn to rain.
Joy in the snow is our birthright, and I think we’d all like it back, please.
*Although, if there’s one going spare, I’ll take a lottery win.
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