Please Santa, do not let it snow

AS I stood there, covered in dust, bleeding money, and cursing the day I ever heard the word “extension”, a (male) builder told me that having work done on a house was a bit like childbirth. Everybody said they would never do it again, but they did. Time wipes the memory and all that.

An attack of amnesia is the only way I can explain the madness afoot after a forecast of snow this weekend. “Let it snow!” one newspaper headline cried joyfully.

Four words, people. Beast. From. The. East. Has everyone forgotten the sheer misery that descended on this nation last March? Far from frolicking in winter perishing wonderlands, thousands were trapped at home with their families for days on end, unable to go to work. It was just like Christmas, but sober. The horror, the horror.

So please, boys and girls, stop gazing skywards in a cute fashion, hoping for snow and ice. You don’t want Santa ending up in a long queue at A&E with the rest of the broken arm brigade, do you?

Merry Christmas.