I don’t remember snow mounting up so quickly here. Matt and I walked up to Claybury Park to see the sights.
Then we followed the shrieks of excitement to the top of Pancake Hill and a family whose father’s shoes we retrieved after they flew off at high speed lent us their plastic sheets and I had my first taste of what we’d seen last year. Very exciting.
Footnotes. A group of malevolent older boys aimed unwanted snowballs at the sledgers from the top of the hill. When we approached they retreated a little and then threw more snowballs at us with intent, and when we got sarcastic with them one began to scream, until his voice cracked, that Matt was a fat ginger cunt who should take a look at himself and cut his hair. On the way up Fullwell Avenue, a car having trouble turning on the ice evoked pure rage on the part of an oncoming driver who rolled down his window and called the other drive a fucking Paki. Red mist came upon me. I wish such people would go and leave Barkingside to the friendly people who speak other languages and go out as a family to make huge snowballs and huger snowmen.