Yesterday at work, the inane chattering turned to the weather forecast and, much like Chinese whispers, the conversation ended in a bold declaration of "Arctic storm to hit Dublin tomorrow morning toaster cocktail vulva".
"I won't see you tomorrow," said the annoying Welsh bloke sitting next to me, "I'll be at home making snowmen!" High-sterical. Turns out the fat bastard had the day off anyway. Prick.
And this morning, what do you think greeted me at the front door? That's right, the ground was resplendent with a dazzling blanket of slight dampness.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but it hasn't snowed in Dublin for what, about twenty years?? When will people realise that snow is a thing of the past for us thanks to the wonder that is climate change. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Snow, much like Christmas (with which snow is most famously affiliated), is only really of any interest to kids. Once you reach adulthood, Christmas is no good because there's no Santa and snow is a pain in the cock because you have to go to work. So enough of this talk of snow, I say.
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