Why are you complaining so much about the snow?

Snow. Some people hate the stuff, but most people I know, both young and old, can’t get enough of it. Students are definitely no exception.

| UPDATED

Opening the curtains after a snowfall in the night is a beautiful sight, but here in Norwich, we were blessed with such a sight at around eight in the evening.

So, naturally, we couldn’t help but get our boots on, run outside and destroy it all in seconds with the traditional sledding on baking trays, or even better, bags for life (because we’re students, and it’s inventive), building a giant snow-penis (as my flat proceeded to do immediately that night, building an impressive, yet perhaps overly ambitious 10-foot shlong) or just pelting innocent passersby with snowballs that you’ve squashed for so long that it’s now mostly ice. Snow is fun, it has always been fun, and it always will be.

Surely there’s nothing to complain about here

But then the nightmare of the next day occurs, and for some ridiculous reason we still have lectures, seminars, workshops, labs, rehearsals and god-knows what else to attend. Pffft! we didn’t pay for this, did we?

To begin with the ground was still slightly soft, if not a little brown and slushy. However, as the day continued, campus became the icy slide of doom. Merely exiting the front door and walking down a path which is angled downhill by a mere 10 degrees (and fearing the uphill climb you know must be made in order to have a hot shower and a cup of tea before settling down to the Eastenders omnibus) seemed a more difficult task than returning the One Ring back to Mordor. But alas, it had to be done.

I had hoped, considering the majestic concrete of the campus, grit would be thrown about the place like there was no tomorrow, yet the next day continued after what I would describe to be a blizzard, and just walking along the ground in wellies seemed like a more precarious task than ever.

I was obsessed with the fact that I was going to fall, and I was too scared to laugh at those who did in case I jinxed myself. I couldn’t be bothered to go to the store or the post room through fear of concrete stairs and the bitter cold.

I’ve already heard some students complain about the weather, we complained about not having a White Christmas, and now we’re complaining that it is snowing, but it’s too late so we don’t want it anymore.

Once it stops snowing and it isn’t ‘fun’ anymore, we can’t even bare the thought of leaving the house. Oh, why can’t it be summer already? Because it isn’t, so shut up, put that flimsy dress away that you’re ‘dying to wear’ (why did you buy it in winter?) and enjoy the snow! You’re a student for God’s sake, that 2,500 word essay can wait.

Seriously, why complain? I LOVE the snow. Winter, in my eyes, if the best time of the year, because who cares about the icy fear (get it? Icy? Oh, never mind) of walking all the way from Paston House to the CD Annex when I know I can get home and fling some sort of grey ice at my best friend?

The rubbish snow-angels, lost baking trays, melted snow-penis’s and grey slushiness don’t make me like the cold any less. In fact, I hope it snows a little longer. I’m not driving anywhere, I bought enough food to last for at least a year in the zombie apocalypse, and I got some cute polar bear pyjamas for Christmas.

Right now, life’s awesome and I can’t stand anyone who moans about the weather. It’s England. Be happy that at least it’s not raining.