I may be seventeen, but I am still a child when it comes to snow. My school has been closed for the past two days, so I have been sledging and having snowball fights with my friends. It is one of the few times I feel happy to be living in the countryside. Usually the lack of cinemas, shops and general excitement makes me yearn for the city, however when it snows and the fields that surround my town are covered in a pristine white blanket I feel extremely grateful. Snow is magical; it transformed even my average looking town into a pretty, sparkling winter wonderland. It makes people happy - as we walked through the snow, slowly so as not to slip on the ice, we passed families with small children in bobble hats giggling and throwing snowballs. On one hill children had congregated, using anything they could find in their garages as makeshift tobbogans. Body boards, trays and rubber rings were just some of the things they used to slide down the slope.
Even in the snow I am very much a pink girl. I love my pink walking boots: they keep my feet toasty, and, well - they're pink! I don't own a single pair of trousers, so I must have been the only one rolling down a snowy hill in a skirt. Oh well, a thick pair of tights, long pair of socks and my snuggly pink coat did the trick. Even my snowman (or rather, snowoman I suppose!) got the pink treatment, with my pink polka dotty hat.
Now it's back to the warm, tucked up on my bed whilst the snow lies white and silent outside.