Why I will never go out in snow

My eyes open and are met with blinding light beaming through the windows. Sleepily, I roll out of bed to close the curtains. I gasp as my eyes are met with a blanket of snow covering the ground outside. I squeal with excitement and hastily wake my brother to tell him the news. I run downstairs to look outside the french doors in our living room to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I look up and see the jasmine hanging above sprinkled in white pixie dust as more falls from the sky. My brother and I wait hastily by the radio to make sure our school is on the list of schools closed for the day. We both let out a loud "Hooray!" when the nice radio man confirms that it is. My nan makes our breakfast - rice crispies and toast accompanied by a delicious hot chocolate. We wolf it down so we can change out of our pyjamas into more appropriate clothing: jumper, jeans, gloves, sparkly pink coat and of course, my trusty Postman Pat wellies.

We run out into the garden and start scooping up snow, moulding it into ammo for a snowball fight. Pelting each other with compact snow was always fun until someone got hurt. I took a snowball to my bare, 6-year-old face and started howling. Who knew it could hurt that much ey? I soon got over the pain of taking a snowball to the face when my brother started rolling up the bottom half of a snowman. I stopped crying and started to help him create this magnificent creature made of snow, a wonky rocky smile and a vibrant orange nose. It took a while, but we got there in the end. I stood in awe of my frosty friend until I got bored and wanted to roll around making snow angels.

I dropped to the icy floor soaking every inch of my clothes without a second thought. I swiped my arms and legs up and down like a horizontal star jump to imprint my beautiful silhouette into the snow. As I stood up to admire my angel like imprint, my feet suddenly had sharp pains going through them. I screwed up my little baby face in agony and hobbled back to the french doors: there was a step to climb up and into the living room which took about 10 minutes I was in that much pain. Through loud cries, I managed to tell my nan to take my wellies off because they were stuck and my feet were hurting. My nan heave-hoed, yanked and pulled she even had her foot on the chair to give her extra strength until my Postman pat wellies came off.

The fire was roaring next to where I sat, my feet red from the freezing cold positioned strategically in front of the ruby flames. What I didn't anticipate, was the burning sensation that arrived because I didn't know if you put something freezing next to/in something boiling, it's gunna burn like a motherfucker. So I cried again because how can something hurt so much and why is my wonderful snow day ruined?! Finally, my feet heated up to a normal temperature as I sat clutching a hot chocolate and watched CITV my parents are aliens though <3  It was then and there that I decided I'll just watch the pretty snowflakes fall from the safety of my warm blankets from now on, and that's exactly what I've done ever since exact the time I had to walk home from school up a big hill in the snow that took about an hour cause I kept falling down/chavs from my school were sliding from the top taking people out with their legs.

Do you like snow? What's your favourite thing about it?

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