Well I had an inkling something was not quite right when I ventured out into the snow-time of E17 this afternoon. The soft, moist and slippery terrain slowed walking (and falling) time sufficiently to make it susceptible to the tricks of the season or rather, calender. Was every slip and step a groundhog moment?
An inkling became a discon-certainty when I found myself completely lost in front of an upside down and back to front clear channel advertisement at the truly very Crooked Billet roundabout. Damn that was was weird! I shook my head vigorously, several times, to dispel the foggery of this ad no man's land. Completely lost? I like to think I am not so easily duped by such attention seeking techniques. A whistle via a sharp intake of breath through the gaps of me teeth was enough to disempower the discombobulating spells of wanton seduction.
I had to reconnect with down upside front to back reality and decided a retreat to Aveling Park might suit this need; the promise of a park of sculpted snowmen - sorry, snowpeople - adding to the appeal.
Alas, twilight was setting in and innocence had departed. A maurauding hoard of lads had set about the field smashing the snow-folk to pieces. It was a gruesome spectacle to witness. One by one, our snowbally friends were mercilessly erased by means of flurries of flying kicks, punches, dives and beatings with sticks. The hoots of unbridled pleasure in the slushy carnage echoed chillingly about the field.
I set about summoning my snow thing, ever watchful of the vandals going about their grisly business. Was this a responsible thing to do, to bring a snow thing into the world and abandon it to a mob? I drew on my powers of hippy dippy fantasy and found this unicorn in the snow - distinctly knobbled and replete with 4 legs, a tail and most importantly, a horn. Would this creature charm the wickedness out of the lads or freak them out and chase them around and out of the field?
Good luck snowy Unicorn, I said as I began walking away. Two spotty specimens of laddish adolescence trotted by me towards the mythical snow creature. I turned around and expected to see a flurry of snowy unicorn pieces however to my amazement the lads had halted, circling my snowflaky friend in what might have been charmed appreciation. Alas they were but wolves circling their prey for soon they were joined by the rest of the rapacious pack.
I set about summoning my snow thing, ever watchful of the vandals going about their grisly business. Was this a responsible thing to do, to bring a snow thing into the world and abandon it to a mob? I drew on my powers of hippy dippy fantasy and found this unicorn in the snow - distinctly knobbled and replete with 4 legs, a tail and most importantly, a horn. Would this creature charm the wickedness out of the lads or freak them out and chase them around and out of the field?
Good luck snowy Unicorn, I said as I began walking away. Two spotty specimens of laddish adolescence trotted by me towards the mythical snow creature. I turned around and expected to see a flurry of snowy unicorn pieces however to my amazement the lads had halted, circling my snowflaky friend in what might have been charmed appreciation. Alas they were but wolves circling their prey for soon they were joined by the rest of the rapacious pack.
A slobbering dog stepped in and broke the horn from the head and whooped with joy and gamboled about the field, pursued by the rest of the pack. A brief respite from the ravages of this adolescent attention was to be had - for the pack set about devouring a once fine upstanding snow figure close by. Three maidens tended to the dehorned snowy 'corn, soothing the wound, but the prowl of wolfish growls set them on their way. The last I saw of this unicorn was as a burst and whirl of snowflakes returning to the night sky.
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