So, Chris hammered on my door at 8:56 yesterday morning, and I trudged out of bed and drew back the curtains.
The beach was totally covered in snow, at least until where the waves were hitting it. The road was covered in snow, and every car had a blankt over it. I could see the mountain across the bay from the marina, and that was white. I went into the kitchen, to look at the view I get from the back of our house: the rest of Aberystwyth. Every surface that snow could have latched itself onto was glistening white.
Chris got back from his lecture at 10ish, and came into my room. I was already dressed, so we shared mutual excitement about the late arrival of winter, with the girls, who were too scared of getting cold to come outside for a snowball fight. So we put on big coats and gloves and headed out. Snow was still falling pretty hard, and it was wonderful. We phoned Rich and told him to get his ass over, and he arrived soon after. In the intervening period, we were encamped on a side of the road each, preparing snowballs out of site for his arrival: his car was going to pay when he drove past. So, of course, he stopped way before, so we had to run up to the car and pelt him from there. And then it begun: snowball fight.
We switched teams quite regularly, moving up and down the street, scooping the snow off of cars and any surface we could, throwing and abusing each other. We turned off of our street and up Castle Road, and saw a larger group of people up the road having a snowball fight. We slowly moved up the street, fighting, throwing snow at passing trucks and cars. Then, a truck moved: behind it was Feathers, barman in our local, and new number one target. He quickly dived in his car, which recieved a thorough covering. Then we moved on up the street and took on this other group of people, and there were about 6 or 7 of them. It was awesome. We had a side of the street each, and snowballs were raining down, cannoning off walls and lamposts, thudding on windows and doors, occasionally making contact. We were ducking behind cars and making quick runs to new positions in open ground: it was like being in a war, in the middle of a battle. I suppose in some ways we were. This all ended when Chris hit a red Sierra, driven by a pretty camp guy, who instantly slammed on his breaks and reversed back to shout at us in his slightly funny voice. Chris responded to this with another snowball, and we ran away.
Deciding to head up to the Castle and see what was happening up there, we called a cease-fire to allow a mother with 2 young children (4 and 6ish) to pass and go into their house. And then, walking past the back gate of this house on the way to the castle: snowballs. Flying over the fence. A clear declaration of war. So, we had a play snowball-fight with these little kids, which was a laugh; they were obviously having a good time. The eldest, a boy, kept coming out and throwing the snowballs at us, and the girl would throw smaller ones and call us 'smelly'. Then she came out from nowhere with a chuck of snow bigger than her head: we know when we're beaten.
There was a group of chavvy kids up at the castle who started throwing snow at us, so retaliation was the only option. The Castle is possibly the best place for a snowball fight, ever. Who knows if people were doing the same thing in the same places hundreds of years before, on a snowy winter morning? So we ducked and dived among the towers and turrets for a while. After that, we decided to retire to Varsity for lunch. I had a driving lesson then, which was good: I only stalled a couple of times, and didn't have too many problems with icy or slippery roads. Also of note is the fact that when I came back to the house I parked, first time, better than Rich or Chris had done with their three cars combined. I'm going to rub that in at every opportunity.
After the lesson, Rich had the idea of a drive up into the mountains, to Nant-y-Moch resevoir, to see more snow. However, up there, it was minus several degrees and the snow was several feet deep: pretty impassable. So after a slow journey back, Rich and Chris decided to go back in the Landrover. So, of course, we didn't hear from them for hours.
As it turns out, they got stuck in a snowdrift, and spent an hour and a half trying to dig themselves out. Which didn't work. So they walked a mile to a farmhouse to use their phone - no mobile signal all the way out there - and called Mountain Rescue. Who, despite rescuing people from mountains being their jobs, referred them to the Police. Who then told Rich that the weather was too hazardous for them to come out, which I find an absolutely appalling attitude to have, but oh well. They called Kayleigh, who came and rescued them. They had to walk 3 miles to the nearest main road, in that cold, in that snow. We were all really worried at home and contemplating calling the Police or Mountain Rescue, but then, by luck, I managed to get a call through to Rich. As if the Police would have done anything anyway.
So, when they got back, we retired to The Castle - our local - which was almost empty, only with regulars who we know, and Feathers, the barman who we'd snowballed earlier, where we proceeded to watch the World Rally Championship highlights with Feathers and have tipsy conversations with his housemate, who was on the double vodkas. And then, bed.
Today, snow was still sticking around a little, and it snowed pretty heavily for most of the day. However, it wasn't sticking around. So that's that for another year.
The beach was totally covered in snow, at least until where the waves were hitting it. The road was covered in snow, and every car had a blankt over it. I could see the mountain across the bay from the marina, and that was white. I went into the kitchen, to look at the view I get from the back of our house: the rest of Aberystwyth. Every surface that snow could have latched itself onto was glistening white.
Chris got back from his lecture at 10ish, and came into my room. I was already dressed, so we shared mutual excitement about the late arrival of winter, with the girls, who were too scared of getting cold to come outside for a snowball fight. So we put on big coats and gloves and headed out. Snow was still falling pretty hard, and it was wonderful. We phoned Rich and told him to get his ass over, and he arrived soon after. In the intervening period, we were encamped on a side of the road each, preparing snowballs out of site for his arrival: his car was going to pay when he drove past. So, of course, he stopped way before, so we had to run up to the car and pelt him from there. And then it begun: snowball fight.
We switched teams quite regularly, moving up and down the street, scooping the snow off of cars and any surface we could, throwing and abusing each other. We turned off of our street and up Castle Road, and saw a larger group of people up the road having a snowball fight. We slowly moved up the street, fighting, throwing snow at passing trucks and cars. Then, a truck moved: behind it was Feathers, barman in our local, and new number one target. He quickly dived in his car, which recieved a thorough covering. Then we moved on up the street and took on this other group of people, and there were about 6 or 7 of them. It was awesome. We had a side of the street each, and snowballs were raining down, cannoning off walls and lamposts, thudding on windows and doors, occasionally making contact. We were ducking behind cars and making quick runs to new positions in open ground: it was like being in a war, in the middle of a battle. I suppose in some ways we were. This all ended when Chris hit a red Sierra, driven by a pretty camp guy, who instantly slammed on his breaks and reversed back to shout at us in his slightly funny voice. Chris responded to this with another snowball, and we ran away.
Deciding to head up to the Castle and see what was happening up there, we called a cease-fire to allow a mother with 2 young children (4 and 6ish) to pass and go into their house. And then, walking past the back gate of this house on the way to the castle: snowballs. Flying over the fence. A clear declaration of war. So, we had a play snowball-fight with these little kids, which was a laugh; they were obviously having a good time. The eldest, a boy, kept coming out and throwing the snowballs at us, and the girl would throw smaller ones and call us 'smelly'. Then she came out from nowhere with a chuck of snow bigger than her head: we know when we're beaten.
There was a group of chavvy kids up at the castle who started throwing snow at us, so retaliation was the only option. The Castle is possibly the best place for a snowball fight, ever. Who knows if people were doing the same thing in the same places hundreds of years before, on a snowy winter morning? So we ducked and dived among the towers and turrets for a while. After that, we decided to retire to Varsity for lunch. I had a driving lesson then, which was good: I only stalled a couple of times, and didn't have too many problems with icy or slippery roads. Also of note is the fact that when I came back to the house I parked, first time, better than Rich or Chris had done with their three cars combined. I'm going to rub that in at every opportunity.
After the lesson, Rich had the idea of a drive up into the mountains, to Nant-y-Moch resevoir, to see more snow. However, up there, it was minus several degrees and the snow was several feet deep: pretty impassable. So after a slow journey back, Rich and Chris decided to go back in the Landrover. So, of course, we didn't hear from them for hours.
As it turns out, they got stuck in a snowdrift, and spent an hour and a half trying to dig themselves out. Which didn't work. So they walked a mile to a farmhouse to use their phone - no mobile signal all the way out there - and called Mountain Rescue. Who, despite rescuing people from mountains being their jobs, referred them to the Police. Who then told Rich that the weather was too hazardous for them to come out, which I find an absolutely appalling attitude to have, but oh well. They called Kayleigh, who came and rescued them. They had to walk 3 miles to the nearest main road, in that cold, in that snow. We were all really worried at home and contemplating calling the Police or Mountain Rescue, but then, by luck, I managed to get a call through to Rich. As if the Police would have done anything anyway.
So, when they got back, we retired to The Castle - our local - which was almost empty, only with regulars who we know, and Feathers, the barman who we'd snowballed earlier, where we proceeded to watch the World Rally Championship highlights with Feathers and have tipsy conversations with his housemate, who was on the double vodkas. And then, bed.
Today, snow was still sticking around a little, and it snowed pretty heavily for most of the day. However, it wasn't sticking around. So that's that for another year.
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