I don't do small talk, but let's discuss the weather

So far this year, the snow has visited and left my city many times, however this is only its second genuine settling. Yet, as soon as the first few snowflakes floated down, the complaints began to waft up.

I know we all have different weather preferences, but unless the snow is could have a severely detrimental effect on our lives we really are foolish to complain. Come mid-March, assuming that Spring will then have spread itself fully across the UK, we may miss the snow. And what about those hideous summer heat waves? Though we often can't sufficiently predict what the future months hold weather-wise thanks to global warming, if the previous few years are anything to go by we can expect intense, sticky heat. Then we'll yearn for those precious few snowflakes that we once scorned.

In fact, how are we to know that the snow will return at all in the near future? It could be years, even decades, before we feel that satisfying crunch and heart-fluttering slip under our feet again.

Personally, I've never been fond of warm weather. It's very restricting to know that there are only so many layers that you can take off to cool yourself, whereas there are always more garments to be put on. Besides, I like the security and comfort of wearing a coat. Who cares about that green jumper and standard blue jeans that I've worn time and time again if they're concealed by a rich, regal teal-coloured coat?

It would be wonderful to choose the weather, and though I know I'd eventually tire of this combination, my current ideal is heavy rain from April to September and a generous snowfall from October to March. Yes, a lovely, British, cold and wet climate, minus the occasional heat waves we experience. Actually, in general I really do love the unpredictability and spontaneity of Britain's weather.

A delayed climax

Naturally, the first day back at school has dragged me back into the routine, and as always it was fairly normal. However, I had an unexpected after-school adventure...

The walk home from school takes mere minutes, yet still manages to be unbearably dull. Mid-walk, I suddenly realised that during the Christmas holidays I unwittingly took out my purse, containing keys and a reasonable amount of money to suffice in emergencies, out of my strained bag.

My father's often out at around mid-afternoon, dashing around earning money, and my mother is always at work at this point, so of course I expected to have to wait around outside for a little bit. Okay, I thought - this is bearable. So I dawdled about from foot to foot, resting my bag on my long feet like a penguin's egg. But soon it became embarrassing - my house is in quite plain view of the public, and being after school there were plenty of passers-by.

The logical option was to retreat to my back garden. Hardly a paradise, but good enough for a few minutes. The not so logical option was to kick the gate to the back garden multiple times, before eventually spotting the rusty handle which promptly and efficiently opened this wooden wonder. Well, forgive me for thinking that my house would be equipped with better security measures.

I shuffled into the back garden, and for some reason expected more than I ever could from my plain old bit of green. Yes, there is a bike shelter, but I was unsure of the cleanliness of that area and din't mind snow at all, so I chose to stand in the middle of the garden. I gazed over at the broken-and-poorly-reassembled bench covered with leeks, which made standing feel all the better.

However, this was not a sustainable action, for I was aware of the fact that my father may have been in a different city and my mother was liable to be at work until 5, so I thought of trotting down the road to the nearest payphone. Easy! Except, of course, coins go in purses. Oh. Thankfully, a 10-year friendship led me to march down to Sam's house.

It's just down the road... a main road, and then there's a left, but that's beside the point. I reached his house in roughly 10 minutes, and upon opening the door he jumped a little in shock, good shock. I was greeted warmly by him, his mother and sister, so it was a lovely comfort after my stand-up experience, and not the comedy kind.

Having watched 'Come Dine With Me' for a little and discussing Slankets and exams, another kind gesture came my way. Sam's mother drove me back to my house, where I greeted my father wearing a bright orange, moth-ravished woollen jumper. Well, of course, he arrived back just minutes after I left.

So, my event was split up into minutes scattered around, and the whole chaos occurred in around an hour. Yes, I was delayed by about an hour and consequently was doing homework until after 6 pm, but ultimately it was enjoyable as I was able to see Sam. A good day, I suppose.