Monday, 2 February 2009


I wake up, check my email and find:

"The [seminar] tomorrow will run from 10:00-12:00 rather than 09:00-12:00. However, keep watching your emails in case the weather gets worse and we reschedule."

Bad weather?

I open my curtains, it takes a moment or two to realize the high contrast world outside is covered by snow. Not much, 5-8cm. But enough to make everything thoroughly white. Or at least monochrome.

I pull my boots on and run/slip off to the Itchen. A wide open expanse of more whiteness, skirted by the dark water of the river. On the football fields, a battle is being fought with snowballs, while an army of snowmen is born in the background.

Away from the excitement, in the quieter parts of the park, some unspoilt snow can still be found. The silence always surprises me: the noise of the city is swallowed, leaving you with only the scrunching of your footsteps.

At some point, I turn around and see how easily my tracks scarred the soft snow. I realize again how apt the phrase "virgin snow" is.

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