1. You can play professional football. Or at least you can play for Accrington Stanley. A club whose trials – according to Ian Rush – include the ability to pass, shoot, head, tackle, swear at the referee and drink milk.
4. You’ve just won the Indy 500. Since the late 1930s, the winner of the Indy 500 has been given a bottle of milk to celebrate with. The driver even gets to choose from three different varieties. Whole, 2% or skimmed. I can only assume that caps react in different ways depending on the fat content.
5. You’ve got a banana. Don’t you just hate it when you discover a banana on your person, but no bottle of milk?
6. Play catch-up. Now, whether you think Margaret Thatcher was right to stop free milk for school children is an entirely different debate. Which is probably just as well seeing as I can only think of two reasons why it was a good idea and one reason why it was not. That’s well short of the seven reasons I need. But I digress. The fact is that Maggie did stop the milk. And as a result millions of children missed out on a pint of the white stuff every morning break. It’s time to play catch up before it’s too late.
7. You’ve been lied to. You see those white marks on your fingernails? Well that is leukonychia. The result of a lack of calcium. Or so my parents told me when I was a child of the eighties. I am now 26 and I have just found out that this was a lie. A lie! A lie to make me drink more milk. In the last twenty years I have milked dozens of cows dry just to try and get rid of the imperfections. (The marks on my nails I mean, not the cows). And today, just after I have bought another eight pints, I find out that the white marks are just a result of trapping my finger in a drawer about six months ago. I’m incandescent with rage.
1. Nectar Points. Sainsbury’s give you lots and lots of Nectar points. They always remind you to hand over your Nectar card and, when Christmas comes, you can exchange your hundreds of thousands of points for a pound off your shopping.
2. Not Tesco. Sainsbury’s isn’t Tesco so you can be fairly sure that your money won’t be contributing to an evil empire’s master-plan for world domination. I once caught a glimpse through the doors of my local Tesco’s stock-room and it was full of stormtroopers. Eventually a man called Garth, wearing a black mask and an aqualung, came and ushered me away. As he escorted me down an aisle of tinned vegetables I asked him, “Which is best, your own-brand baked beans or Heinz?” He pointed at a tin of Branston beans, which floated into my basket, and he said “The sauce is strong with this one”. He was right.
3. Save. In order to do their bit for the environment, Sainsbury’s give you a penny every time you use your own bag. I’ve started using one bag per item. That’s a penny off everything, which is much better than Nectar points.
4. Jamie Oliver. He sounds like the love child of David Bellamy and Janet Street-Porter and looks like the love child of a frog and a toad. He is also the public face of Sainsbury’s, earning millions of pounds a year representing them. Don’t let that put you off shopping there though. With that sort of money, he can afford not to have to do his own shopping so you’ve got no chance of bumping into him there. Besides, he’s actually done some good things. Never mind all that Fifteen stuff or the making children eat healthy food nonsense, he called BBC Radio 5Live’s Victoria Derbyshire a “stupid cow”. And you thought he was an idiot.
5. Toilet light. I’ve never used a toilet in a supermarket. I don’t consume anything while I’m shopping and, as a man, I aim to spend the shortest possible amount of time at the shop, so I’ve only ever witnessed the toilet light from the outside. It would appear that Sainsbury’s fit all of their supermarket toilets with bright ultraviolet toilet lights. The dazzling brilliance of the blue-hued-glow which everything is bathed in whenever the toilet door is opened is astonishing. A friend of mine went into the toilet while I waited for him outside and when he opened the door I had to use my hand to shield my eyes from the glare. When he emerged it looked like one of the final scenes from Close Encounters of The Third Kind. If you’re making a sci-fi movie on a budget then go to Sainsbury’s.
6. Grape Nuts. Sainsbury’s is one of the few shops in the U.K. where you can buy this amazing American breakfast cereal. It’s like malted gravel in milk. Brilliant.
7. Comedy. The automatic doors at my local branch of Sainsbury’s are fantastic. They are the slowest automatic sliding doors in the world and are more entertaining than many spectator sports. Between the shopper arriving at the door and the door opening, there is a four second gap. This is fine if you’re expecting it, you know that you should stop and wait for a bit – I use the time to get my shopping list out. Unsuspecting customers don’t stop though, because no one usually has to stop and wait for an automatic door, and they walk straight into them. If you find watching people walk into doors funny – and I certainly do – then my local branch of Sainsbury’s is the one to shop at. They even have a handily placed seating area next to the doors that you can spectate from. You won’t find that at Asda.
1. The Men. All the big guns are there. Nadal isn’t moaning about his back. Federer isn’t crying. Del Potro has stopped growing. Murray has smiled a couple of times. It should be a classic. It probably won’t be, but it should be.
2. The Women. The most popular Belgian exports since Tintin and Snowy will be taking part. That’s right, it’s Miss Henin and Miss Clijsters. You can decide who is who. What a relief it is to have someone other than a Williams or a player whose surname ends with the letter ‘A’ to watch.
3. Goodbye Aussie, Goodbye. That’s to the tune of ‘Let’s go Aussie, let’s go’. I suppose you could do the latter, you just need to shout ‘Home’ afterwards. The state of tennis is Australia is horrendous. I mean it’s almost as bad as it is in the UK. And that’s bad. But at least in Andy Murray, the UK has a chance. Even if that chance would rather win for Scotland or Murrayville. Australia’s hopes remain with Lleyton Hewitt – a man who would probably struggle to beat me while I prance around pretending to be Greg Rusedski – and Samantha Stousr – a lovely girl, but not one who will make it past the 4th Round. It’s great!
4. Two Weeks. Two weeks is a nice time for a tournament. Not too long, but long enough to get us out of January. It hasn’t been a great month for anyone really. It just got worse for me. My toast landed butter side down.
5. Sex Appeal. I don’t care what you say. I am shallow. Female tennis players are hot. The good news is that Australia is also hot and so they may entertain the idea of wearing fewer clothes. I suppose the men might do it too. Not that I understand why anyone would care.
6. Commentary. I am not sure how I’m going to do it, but I must find myself a feed to watch a couple of the 1st Round match-ups. Not because they’ll be classics, but because the commentators are going to be stuttering and spitting all over the place. And as long as they are not spitting over me that sounds like fun. Phillip Krohlschreiber v Horacio Zeballos. A complete mouthful. Then we have Kimikio Date Krumm v Yaroslava Shvedova. Seriously, who names their daughter ‘Date’?
7. Women’s Final. This year it will last more than twenty minutes. I promise. Last year’s final was so quick that by the time one of the ball boys had retrieved a stray ball, Safina was already taking her make-up off. This won’t happen again. If it looks like an even remote possibility, the organisers will deploy their streakers. A reason to watch in itself.
1. Brown. The thaw is brown. Everything is muddy, slushy and brown. The grit that was scattered onto the snowy roads and pavements and is now visible, is brown. The river is brown. The bare trees are brown, the uncovered grass is brown, Gordon is Brown. Nothing good is brown (except beverages and beverage based desserts, obviously).
2. Slush. When the snow is on the ground it’s a pure, blank canvas which will be affected in an obvious way by whatever is on top of it. When it melts, however, it’s just a brown, wet slushy mass. We all know what’s in yellow snow, but we’re not sure what’s in all those brown slushy puddles. What is it? It could be anything. It’s slush, but it’s not blue and doesn’t taste of cherry, which is a big disappointment.
3. Snowmen. The streets are full of dying snowmen. Is there anything sadder than that? They are like urban, wintery versions of Ozymandias, whose power and grandeur and gilded age has passed into ruination and decay. Soon they will be a distant memory as they assume the form of an old, discarded hat and some twigs scattered on the ground. My neighbour’s snow-penis is also looking distinctly unimpressive at the moment. Perhaps I should forward to him some of the many emails I receive offering me Viagra.
4. Nice. The snow is a special time. With the passing of the snow the nicety will go. When you encounter a neighbour walking down your snow-covered street in a blizzard you generally smile at each other, glance skyward and tut. When you encounter police with their riot shields out in the snow they’re using them for sledging.
With the thaw, when you bump into your neighbours, they will scowl at you as usual, or worse, they will converse with you. When you encounter police with their riot shields out they will beat you to death as usual, or worse, they will usher you into the Ricoh Arena.
5. Balls. When the snow goes, the local ne’er-do-wells will be unable to pelt cars, buses and cyclists with snowballs containing rocks. They will, instead, pelt cars, buses and cyclists with rocks. Not only will this cause more damage, but it will rob passers-by of the strange spectacle of a bunch of youths with their tracksuit-bottoms tucked into their white socks, apparently floating eight inches above the ground while assaulting the traffic.
6. Sledging. When the snow is gone sledging is difficult, if not impossible.
7. Disruption. Disruption to services is forgivable in the snow as, well, it’s the snow! Everything is good in the snow. Now that the snow is thawing, however, disruption to services is annoying and unforgiveable. Especially these bins that have been blocking this path for a week. Expect to see this picture again in 7 Reasons my Neighbours Should be put to Death. Idiots.
1. You’re A Superhero. This only applies to people called Clark, Peter or Jonathan, but even so. It is fully acceptable to pull red pants over your blue lycra body suit in a phone box, providing you have one of these names and are in some way associated with a newspaper. You could be a journalist, a photographer or pick up a copy of the Evening Standard on the way home each day.
2. You Need Shelter. Rain. Snow. Hail. Nuclear Bomb. Get in a phone box and wait until it has passed. If you are in flip-flops make sure you watch out for the syringes.
3. You’re Foreign. If there is one thing you need to do as a visitor to Great Britain it is to have your photo taken next to or in one of our red phone boxes. I am not sure why you have a such a fascination with them, they pretty much do the same job as a grey phone box, but I am not going to stand in your way. Most of the people in this country have moved onto mobile phones these days so it is nice to see someone using them.
4. You Need To Promote Your Business. Phone boxes are perfect if you want to stick up a flyer or business card. The main advantage of using a phone box is that it’s free, the disadvantage is that you will have a lot of competition. The best way of standing out from the crowd is to reduce your ridiculously high hourly rates.
5. You Don’t Own A Mobile. This may sound obvious, but I have lost count of the number of times someone has walked up to me and said, “Sorry mate, I have forgotten my phone. Can I borrow yours for a minute?” Don’t ask me for my phone. The chances are you are going to run off with it. Go and try and steal a phone box instead. And make sure you bend your knees. They are bloody heavy.
6. You Are Embarrassed To Make That Call At Home. I speak from personal experience here. When I was younger I used to ask girls out with frightening regularity. Not because I was very, very horny, but because the vast majority rejected me so I just had to move on to the next one. The idea of asking a girl out in earshot of my parents terrified me though, so I used to walk down to the local phone box with 10p in my hand (yes, it was that long ago) and then spend twenty minutes building up the courage to call my latest crush. Two minutes later I walked home poorer and heartbroken.
7. You Need To Get Your Hat Back. It’s such a bore when you are walking along the road and suddenly someone flies by, grabs your hat and chucks it atop the nearest phone box. Five minutes later the Police have pulled up and are asking you to get down from its roof. This also applies to bus stops.
1. Timing. Five years ago, when he told a Congressional committee that he “hadn’t come to talk about the past”, before refusing to discuss his own drug use, Mark McGwire had nothing to gain by discussing it. Now though, with accusations and witness testimonies about his drug use mounting – his own brother’s even – Mark McGwire does have something to gain from admitting his drug use. The Cardinals couldn’t employ a batting coach who was still lying about his drug use – that would taint their current playing squad with suspicion. It is only by finally admitting his deception that McGwire can hope to remain in employment. His admission is not contrition, it is not an attempt to seek redemption, it is both cynical and self serving.
2. Mistake. Mark McGwire stated in his interview with Bob Costas that his persistent steroid use was a “mistake”. That’s really the wrong word to use. Pressing the wrong button on your computer and sending an email before you’ve finished writing it is a mistake. Forgetting to thank your host at a dinner party is a mistake. Persistent use of illegal performance enhancing drugs over the course of several years to gain sporting and pecuniary advantage is not a mistake. A better word to describe his use of steroids would be “cheating”, or “abomination”, “deception”, “fraud”, “charlatanism”, “bilking”, “duplicitous”, “shameful”, “treacherous”, “crooked”, “dishonest”, “swindling”… I could go on. Seriously, I could come up with hundreds of words to describe his conduct, all of them more appropriate than “mistake”. I could do it without recourse to performance enhancing drugs too. I could probably manage it on nothing more powerful than a couple of cups of coffee.
3. Dismissive. McGwire also attempts to downplay his steroid use. He replied “Absolutely” when asked if he could have hit over 70 runs in a season without them. Really? Why go to the trouble of taking them then? Why risk being unmasked as a cheat by the authorities? Why endanger your health by taking them? Of course Mark McGwire couldn’t have hit 70 home runs in a season without them. If he could have, he wouldn’t have resorted to using them.
McGwire is trying to tell us is that his drug use had no effect on his ability to hit the ball. This is laughable when consider the extra strength and power that its users of human growth hormone are able to generate.
Let’s put that to one side though, McGwire states that he took illegal drugs to get him through injuries, which means that without them, his ability to get through the scrapes and knocks of professional baseball would have been diminished. Can you hit 70 home runs in a season when you spend a reasonable amount of it on the DL? Of course you can’t. Mark McGwire gained a large advantage as a result of the use of steroids, and if his admission had been made for the right reasons, he would have been honest enough to admit it. He cheated then, and he’s lying now.
4. Hall of Fame. One of the possible reasons McGwire won’t admit that taking performance-enhancing-drugs enhanced his performance is the Baseball Hall of Fame. Perhaps he still harbours some ambition to be elected into it. If he admitted that his cheating affected his home run statistics he would surely diminish his chances even further, as he certainly doesn’t deserve to be there as a result of his fielding performances, his base-running or his batting average, which were nothing special. His only hope is that his home run achievements will get him elected . Mark McGwire is a cheat and it would be a disgrace if he were elected to the Hall of Fame. He should be only be accepted into the Baseball Hall of Fame if Milli Vanilli are elected into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, Joseph Stalin is canonised and Heather Mills is given a Knighthood.
5. Money. The astonishing thing is that McGwire stands to gain financially from admitting his drug use – however grudging and duplicitous his admissions have been. Here is a man who cheated at his sport and made hundreds of millions of dollars in salaries, bonuses and endorsements as a result of that. He stands to keep his job with the Cardinals as a result of his admission, he’ll probably write a tell-all book – with all of the publishing advances and serialisation fees that come with that – and he’ll probably turn up crying on Oprah. What he definitely won’t be doing is paying back the money he gained by cheating. What of his opponents who didn’t take drugs and were out-performed by McGwire and his team? Will McGwire reimburse them for their lost win-bonuses? Will he reimburse companies he endorsed, whose reputation now stands to be tainted as a result of his admission? Will he reimburse the baseball fans who went to see a fair contest – this is a sport, remember – and didn’t see one? Of course he won’t. It is as likely as Simon Cowell saying something nice or doing something worthy.
6. Reaction. It’s not just McGwire’s conduct that has been shameful. Most of the reaction I’ve read and heard has been right-minded and fair. This is understandable, McGwire’s steroid use doesn’t come as a surprise in a sport that’s been so tainted by drug abuse, but it would be nice if comment on it were a little less calm and rational. It may be something that we’ve all come to expect but that doesn’t mean that we should accept it so readily. The most outraged commentator I have read about this is me. I’m furious! I don’t understand how a man can cynically admit to defrauding the sporting public and sully the reputation of the wonderful game of baseball and generate so little vitriol from commentators. If a similar situation had occurred in English football, the media would be leading mobs with torches and pitchforks to his door and nobody would condemn them for it. As for the reaction of Bobby Knight, I can only assume that he is Gatorade-addled. Bobby Knight; you sir, are an idiot.
7. * Once again, this admission brings back the spectre of statistics. When Benjamin Disraeli spoke of “Lies, damned lies and statistics”, he couldn’t have even begun to imagine the mess that baseball statistics are in. What do you do with McGwire’s records? They were obtained illegally, by cheating. What do you say to an honest player who scores 69 home runs in a season? That they’re the third best of all time? Statistically that’s what this honest player would be – that’s what the records would show – but we all know that McGwire scored 70 home runs in a season by cheating. Is it even enough to put an asterisk next to his scores? I believe they should be removed from the record book altogether. If his scores remain, McGwire wasn’t just cheating baseball then, he’s cheating baseball now. What incentive is there for honest athletes to give their all in a sport where cheats continue to prosper in its recorded history?
I would like to apologise to regular 7 Reasons readers. We are supposed to be a humour-based website and I feel I haven’t been very funny here, but I find it very hard find any humour in this sordid and repugnant affair. I love baseball and I feel cheated.
1. The Shirt. It’s a bit annoying when you put on a nice shirt, just to cover it up with a sweater. The Cardigan, whether buttoned up or not, shows off that shirt. It sounds simple, but if you are wearing a sweater you may as well wear a string vest with ‘I Love Freddie Mercury’ emblazoned across it.
2. The Band. They were pretty decent. But they’d have been pretty average without one Cardigan in particular. That Cardigan was Nina Persson. The lead singer. Without her, songs such as Lovefool and My Favourite Game, would not have featured lyrics.
3. The Dog. No one is going to tell me that the Cardigan Welsh Corgi was not made for riding.
4. The Balaclava. Cardigans go well with Balaclavas. Don’t take it from me. Take it from the Russians. During the Battle of Balaclava they watched in delight as Lord Cardigan led the Charge of the Light Brigade down through the Valley of Death. The Cardigan/Balaclava look – as depicted in many an artist’s impression – remains a classic.
5. The Coast. Whether it’s a Welsh town or a fishing community in Eastern Kings County, Prince Edward Island, Canada, you are always going to experience the sea breeze rushing through your hair. You are also going to get bloody cold.
6. The Film. Who can’t get excited by this? Cardigan. The Film. A middling period drama that takes place in pre-Revolutionary War times and relies quite a lot on the audience’s patriotism for its interest. Michael Cardigan is one of many American inhabitants who doesn’t want to be under the King’s rule. However, he’s in love with Felicity – the ward of the English governor. As the friction between the Tories and the Colonists builds, Cardigan finds himself fighting for both a new country and for Felicity’s love. Along the way, he exposes the treachery of Captain Butler and is almost burned at the stake by Indians sympathetic to the British. Then Paul Revere makes his famous ride, the battles of Lexington and Concord are fought and the Red Coats are sent packing. Eventually Cardigan and Felicity are reunited. See, I’m excited.
7. The Hike. Everyone likes a hike now and then. Especially if it isn’t going to be too knackering. There is only one place that offers such a comfort and that is in the middle of New Hampshire. Peaking at only 962 metres, Mount Cardigan is perfect for a day out. Especially if you are a base jumper whose parachute fails to open correctly.
1. Cleanliness. Cats are self-cleaning. They fastidiously preen themselves with their Velcro-textured tongues and consequently, unlike dogs, never require bathing. In fact, cats are much cleaner than children and therefore set a good example to them. They also bury their own excrement so you don’t have to worry about that either. If you’re really lucky, they’ll bury it in a neighbour’s garden. This is probably something you shouldn’t teach your children to do.
2. Ninja. Children are loud and noisy; cats are silent and alert. You can use the cat to demonstrate silence and awareness to your children. There is no better stealth training than attempting to sneak up on a cat. Your children will learn to tread carefully and to watch out for the cat’s ever-alert swivelling ears. Who knows, they may eventually become domestic-ninjas. Like me.
3. Exotic. You want a sensible, low-maintenance, low-risk animal, but your children don’t. Children never want sensible pets. They always want something terrifying and dangerous like a tarantula, a piranha or a crocodile. A cat is an ideal compromise. Cats come with a free snake. It’s at the back.
4. Porn-Star-Name. The name of your first pet is the first part of your porn-star-name so your choice of a first pet for your children is important. Tortoises are called things like George and Simon; dogs are called things like Pip and Rover; cats, on the other hand, have cool names like Horatio or Socks. If you need to know how important the right pet is in determining your childrens’ future porn-star-name you should ask my wife, Fred Townsend. Or you could ask my friend whose first pet was a cat, Lucifer Jordan.
5. Independence. Cats come and go as they please through a little hole in the door. They go out to stare at the garden gate and sit under cars for reasons that we don’t understand. The important thing though, is that they do it unaided. Unlike dogs, there’s no endless walking and throwing sticks to distract your children from their homework. Besides, they’ll eventually tire of walking a dog and you’ll end up doing it yourself.
6. Biscuits. Cats don’t have biscuits and chocolate drops, unlike dogs. This means that your children will have less opportunity to play pet food related practical jokes on you or unsuspecting house-guests. They will still substitute salt for sugar and gravy granules for instant coffee, but being served dog biscuits with your cup of tea is one less thing you’ll have to worry about if you get a cat. This is what eating a dog biscuit did to Jennifer Aniston’s face. Poor, poor Jennifer.
7. Respect. Cats are cute and cuddly, soft and furry, content and purry – until angered. When you anger a cat it turns from a docile, supine teddy bear of an animal into a hissing, spitting, furious mass of teeth and claws. Nothing teaches children to respect others like being bitten on the hand or losing an eye. If they survive cat-ownership, they will be equipped for life.
1. Transport. There are a lot of cars where I live – that’s on Earth. Whenever I am in a car I always end up getting stuck. A journey that should take ten minutes, invariably takes twelve. Half the time I think it would be quicker to walk. The other half I think it would be quicker to hover. On both occasions I am right. Walking, though, tends to be a bit boring and I blister easily. I wouldn’t get blisters hovering though and I certainly wouldn’t get bored. Weaving in and out and over cars. I imagine the adrenaline rush to be something like sky-diving with a handkerchief.
2. Evolution. The bicycle is a great mode of transport, but while it remains popular in it’s current form it has also evolved into a motorbike. Another great mode of transport is the skateboard. Unlike the bicycle though, the skateboard has not evolved. And in my opinion it’s getting left behind. Everything else evolves, it’s time for the skateboard to step up to the plate.
3. My Generation. Apart from being Friday, today is also referred to as the age of the ‘Playstation Generation’ (though other computer video gaming consoles are available). People get fat playing on the Playstation. They also end up with square eyes. The best cure for both these ailments is to get outside. I guarantee Hoverboards would do this. The youngsters of today would switch off their consoles, get on their board and hover about all over the place. Or maybe they’ll just go down to KFC.
4. Literature. If WH Smith lacks one thing on its shelves, it is Hoverboard Monthly. Or the more youth-orientated Pimp My Hoverboard Bitch!
5. No More Snow Chaos. If you look outside today, you will notice that there is snow on the ground. This white stuff is treacherous to walk on or drive over. So the best thing to do is stay in, or, if your journey is unavoidable, get on a hoverboard. And if you fall off, at least you’ll land on something soft.
6. Reputations. There is a great film trilogy called Back To The Future. Well, I say a ‘great trilogy’, the third one was a bit random if you ask me, but that is irrelevant until next week’s 7 Reasons The Third Back To The Future Film Was A Bit Random. What is relevant now though, is that they had hoverboards in BTTF II. In the year 2015. We’re not far off. If we don’t get them soon the credibility of the trilogy is going to plummet.
7. Sport. I think just about every sport out there would be improved by the addition of a hoverboard. Especially if they are remote control hoverboards and controlled by random spectators. It would be a bit like…erm…using a Playstation.
1. Crime. Snow aids crime detection. Foolish criminals often commit a winter burglary and, when fleeing the scene, leave a handy trail of footprints and tyre-tracks that lead straight to their own homes. The police even catch some of them.
2. Unmask the stupid. It’s easy to discover who the idiots are when it snows. The words essential and necessary are words that are used every winter to describe the sort of car journey you should undertake in snowy conditions. It’s always educational to find out what people, presumably without dictionaries, think that these words mean. Some people think that going to the sales at an out-of-town designer outlet is necessary, some people think that a trip to the cinema is essential, some people think that it’s a good idea to drive out to the countryside to look at the snow. These people make poor decisions behind the wheel too. They can usually be found stuck sideways across the road in a snowdrift causing a large queue of midwives, coastguards, heating engineers and off-licence workers to be stranded. If you want to know if your journey is essential, check here: http://www.ismyjourneyabsolutelynecessary.co.uk/
3. Sledging. The snow proves that we’re better at sledging than the Australians. They’ve never even seen snow. Upon encountering snow most Australians ascertain that it’s wet, very cold and flavourless, and quickly conclude that it’s beer. Australians think that you need a bat and ball to go sledging. Australians are wrong.
4. Japery. You can have a lot of fun in the snow. You can throw snowballs and build a snowman, these activities are fun. Even more fun is building a snowman on the roof of your friend’s car; this is fun and causes annoyance, which is a double win. Even better than that is building a snow penis in your next-door-neighbour’s front garden; this is fun, causes annoyance and great hilarity – not to mention ruddy-faced shouting and gesticulation.
5. Silence. The snow baffles sound, and while there’s snow on the ground, a lot of urban background noise is deadened. There are also fewer cars and people around. When snow has fallen, the world is not just bathed in white powder, it is also bathed in silence – which is something to consider while you’re walking along listening to your iPod or chatting on your mobile.
6. Mystery. When I left the house this morning there was one set of footprints on the front path – mine. When I came back, there were four other sets of footprints on the front path. The only evidence of any visitor was the single letter that the postman had delivered. Who were those extra footprints from? Why was one of them wearing Converse trainers in the snow? What sort of animal has both hooves and claws? Did the man with unfeasibly large shoes with a sensibly-gripped-sole really limp slightly with his left leg? It’s a snow mystery.
7. Beauty. Snow is beautiful; it conceals all eyesores and blemishes leaving everything steeped in an egalitarian white-powdered uniformity. This is great as it makes my horrid front garden, with its weeds and peeling paint, look no worse than the rest of the gardens on my street and, while the snow is here, I can relax and stop worrying that I should do something about it. The only thing that makes my front garden look bad in the snow is the large cock in it. He’s come to complain about the snow-penis I built in his garden. He seems quite cross.
