Snow Business

A shot of campus this morning. In places the snow was a good few inches deep, and where it was piled up against the kerb, it reached almost to my knee. Anyone that's seen me and snow will know I love the stuff. These last few days, though, have been exhausting, and it's becoming a real chore to negotiate the increasingly slippery slopes around here.


Near the main gate, a small army of what appeared to be students or enthusiastic members of the public were shovelling away clearing the carpark of snow. It occurred to me that this was one solution to the unemployment crisis but wondered what these people did in times when the weather was dry. Also, dealing with snow in this way seemed rather labour-intensive, and nothing that one man armed with Soviet-era flamethrower technology couldn't fix in a hurry.

Crossing the road, my feet suddenly shot forward, out from under me, and I fell, hard. A man selling fireworks called out "太滑" - too slippery - and I grunted my agreement as I found my feet and brushed off the dusting of snow thrown up by my impact. Everyone stared, and there was no way to style out a fall like that.

A canal runs by the streets near my flat. It's been frozen solid since I arrived here, but this morning was blanketed in a layer of snow so bright as to appear blue.

Across the way, a group of toddlers emerged from a house, swaddled in so many layers that it became difficult to tell front from back. They screamed in excitement at the snow and toddled in erratic circuits, round and round the old man minding them. The old man barked at them to behave, but couldn't help smiling at their flailing arms and wordless yelling. It's hard to feel annoyed at the snow after a sight like that, and it almost made up for the annoyance of falling on my butt.