Snow 2

Go icicles

For many days now, grim-faced weathermen have been plotting the oncoming threat of snow. The TV coverage has made me begin to wonder if I have lived too long. I am gripped by deja vu – principally because I really have seen it all before.

There will be pictures of cars being dug from drifts in the West Country; cars moving slowly up a motorway along a black track gouged through the snow; a report about delayed trains; film of children’s jubilation that school has closed early (matched no doubt by the mood in the staff room); a rear wheel drive car is shown skidding sideways at low speed; kids ride sledges down Parliament Hill; the worried face of an old man gazes out of a window as a sad voice explains hypothermia and the inadequacy of the Winter Fuel Allowance; local authority employees are quizzed about gritting; an expert is asked about global warming.

Go outside and look up. The grey flakes dart about, picked out against the milky sky. It is a sight even older and more familiar than the monotonous repetitions of the news. Tomorrow the ice will send me toppling and I’ll curse as I snap a credit card cleaning the windscreen of my car but right now I am four years old. I am seeing my first proper snowfall. My face is pressed so hard against the glass that I can smell the dust on the window. Looking up. Looking up. Then dashing to grab my boots and my coat. Mum is pushing a hat onto my head and I’m wondering if you have to be taught how to build a snowman or whether I’ll just know.

I stop wondering whether I’ve lived too long. I haven’t lived enough.

Snow

The news had been promising snow. Not just some snow but the sort of snow that brings Britain to its knees and has people hugging their pets for warmth whilst burning heirlooms in the grate. Actually, that is just “some snow”. I rushed out to take a picture of the magic white transformer of London’s bleakness today. It looked as if the lawn had dandruff. By the time I realised my camera battery was flat and had rushed inside to change it, the snow had melted. I decided to have a fondue to build on the snowy alpine vibe but then couldn’t find the fondue pot. This is not a day which is going to rate high on my achievement scale. At least I’ve written a blog entry I can be truly proud of.

Heresy Sunday

Each Sunday I take the girls to church. Sophia sees it as a play group. She meets her friend, O and they lie in front of a row of pews colouring in and chatting. Other mothers, sensing a budding playgroup wander over with their toddlers and then sneak away. Lessons are quickly learnt about the need to share and not fretting because your prize pink Crayola twistable is being inserted by a toddler into its nose.

Sara hops between scribbling in a pad and mooching over to me in search of a hug. Sophia loves the “sign of peace”. She sets off, paw out-stretched, determined to shake the hand of every congregant. “Just a representative sample!” I call after her as she makes her way down the aisle like Bill Clinton at a fund-raising hog-roast.

After mass is done, they both rush to light a candle. I have never heard Sara’s prayer. Sophia always asks God to look after our long-deceased cat. If he is in (what I assume must be called) Purrgatory, his soul will be flying out of the other side like a furry nerf bullet whilst others languish. The sheer consistency of the petitioning is bound to catch the attention of the Almighty. Thence to Holy Communion preparation classes for Sara. Today the parents were asked to stay for a session of our own. It began with the cathecist explaining the Trinity in a way which appeared to have been closely modelled on the Sabellian or Modal heresy. She then moved on to suggest that we should always bow to the cross in church as that was where Jesus was present. That seemed a pretty textbook case of idolatry. They worry me these people. Next time I’m going dressed as Torquemada.

Sister D then rose to address the topic of how children should behave in church. I couldn’t catch the exact words but I’m confident I have the gist:

– God is grumpy and disapproving.
– God abhors the sound of children.
– Though the kingdom of heaven may be belong to little children, they must behave as much like adults as possible at all times.
– Church may be a community but don’t let children greet their friends during mass.
– The purpose of some rules is to allow you to demonstrate obedience. There is no need for any other purpose.
– Silent conformity is a key element of respect.
– Needing the loo is disrespectful to God.