snowbawling my eyes out

I swear to god, snow is one of those massive conspiracies by the government or someone, just like Brussels sprouts. You see Brussels sprouts are not actually that disgusting, they're not great, but they're definitely not gross. However ever since I was young, on T.V. and pretty much everywhere Brussels sprouts were targeted as the worst vegetable ever, and I know for a fact people judge before even tasting. If everyone tasted on their own, I'm sure a new 'mushrooms are fucking rank' consensus would be agreed on. This is not even my opinion, it's a fact.

Similarly snow is one of those things that everyone is told is enchanting and magical. In reality, the only time I ever wished for snow as a child, was only in hope that school would be cancelled and I could spend the day watching Loose Women and feeling better about my life. I questioned my own cynicism and thought maybe I was a snow pessimist because living in London snow is actually grey, but having been on a cruise around Alaska and Canada, there is no doubt in my mind that I'd have rather been in the Caribbean. The thing about snow in London is that all that settles in a paper thin layer of what is essentially sleet. If you try and gather some to make a snowball, it is not far off assault because London snowballs are more gravel , rocks and litter than snow. A snow fight is more likely to end in tears than winter joy. Plus, at 20 years old (good god) I am beyond the age where I can ask for lifts from my parents, at the age where trains stop too early, and before the age where I can haul a taxi without my bank balance reaching red. So a winter waiting in Stoke Newington for the fucking 243 bus for 30 minutes in minus 10 degree weather is bad enough as it is without snow extinguishing my last cigarette.

I just find it weird that people spend the run up to Christmas praying for snow, when they could be wishing for 100 degree sun. What a wasted prayer.

The future looks...exactly the same as it did before.

I've come to the conclusion, that the only good thing about Halloween is cute gothic fashion. Friday saw a party hosted by Browns at a converted church in Soho. Spooky? Not really, but it was open bar and Josh Harnett was there, so I wasn't going to complain.

To try and get into the spirit, I took advantage of the entertainment at the party. First up in the main chapel I watched the first few minutes of some lady "singing", "jazz". It was the kind of performance, that you start planning your exit from, almost instantly after its begun. Maybe she was the trick, because she sure as hell wasn't a treat.

Anyway, after making a swift exit I noticed a lady sitting in a corridor apparently telling people's future's. I sat down and she began to ask me about any previous spiritual experiences I'd had. Now, being a student of Philosophy, I tend to be quite a sceptic, but simultaneously, it means that I think I'm really witty. So thought I'd humour this lady and really play up to the situation, all while massaging my ego. She she picked three tarot cards for me. I'll admit, there was a small part of me that wanted her to win me over with her incredible foresight...Alas, she was crap. She began to ramble about some sort of relationship I was going to start with "either a friend, or a family member, or a..a...lover". It was at this point when I had to start thinking of dead kittens and the credit crunch to ensure I could keep a straight face. She continued with something along the lines of "if you try really hard at the task at hand, you will succeed in the future!" Well no shit Sherlock.

It was then I had to make my excuses, head to the bar for a little Dutch courage before the Josh stalking commenced. Now if only she'd seen him in my future, I may have paid a little more attention...