Jack Frost Doing Jack Shit

As all of Britain’s pop stars predicted, there was no snow in Africa this Christmas. But strangely, there wasn't any in the crappy little suburb of Epsom either. While the rest of the nation has been immersed in 15cm of the stuff, we have been completely dry. It’s almost as though the hole in the ozone layer has been focused directly over where I live, just to make sure that December is as miserable as it could be.

I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t so damn cold. For the past 2 weeks, I’ve gone out the door each morning with enough thermals on top to shame an arctic explorer: T-shirt, Shirt, Jumper, Coat, Scarf and Gloves. As a result my torso has been as warm as it needs to be, cozy and up to temperature. However, my legs have been frozen. For the past fourteen days, I’ve been getting regular frostbite each morning. This is why it’s vital that high street chains realize this, and instantly decide to market a range of padded trousers. Not ski trousers with a grey coloring, which have no zip and are specially formulated to never come off, or on, but real trousers with simply thermal lining. I’d pay up to £25 a pair for such things.

Another problem with the cold is the way it keeps me in bed. Spring-Autumn, I can quite happily go to bed at 11 and wake up a 7 each school day. But during the winter I simply can’t function. I’ve tried going to sleep at 9, but that didn’t help either. I wake up, turn off my alarm, sit up, and wake up again 20 minutes later by my father screaming that it’s 7.20 and I’m fucked for the train. Hopefully I will eventually acclimatize, but in the meantime, I really don’t know what I’m going to do.  

**UPDATES**

I’m writing this the night before I post it. Fuck knows what’s going to happen in the meantime.

Turns out it is going to snow, quite heavily apparently. While I’m walking to school in the morning. Fml. 

The £450,000 Tie

Well on friday i forgot my tie. Christ knows how, but i only realized when on of the uniform commissionars at the front school gate started hammering me for not doing my top button up. I went to my head of house, who was surprisingly calm about it.

"How did you forget your tie??"
"I dunno, incompetence?"
"Thats not incompetence thats forgetfulness"
"..."

So i was asked to give a deposit for the tie. Don't know why i was supposed to give a deposit, maybe she has such a high opinion of things she thinks i'll run off with it. Crazy woman. There was many things i could have given her, there was my ipod, my headphones, my mobile, my memory stick or some coins. But instead, i plumbed for my keys. Which contain a) my front door b) my porch and c) my locker. She gave me the tie, and locked my keys in her desk drawer.

So at the end of the day, I go back to the head of house office to get my bloody keys back. And as only my luck would go, after half an hour of waiting i discover she's caught "An Infection" and had to go home. Taking the desk drawer keys with her.

Bugger.

So I'm outside the head of house office, wearing the equivalent of my house around my neck, dreading the possibility of explaining to my mother how i traded my house keys for a £5 tie, and can't get the keys back until monday.

All options considered, it all looked pretty damn bleak. So after a quick look through the head of house door window to check it was clear i walk in with purpose, to break open the drawer, get the keys back, return the tie and march home victorious. So i open the door... and see 3 other heads of house staring at me.

Panic. But i still used whatever reason i had left, and asked the heads if they knew how to open the damn drawer. After explaining, one of them walked to the desk and had a quick scout for the sacred key. She searched in the pots, in my heads jacket, and looked on the floor and finally... still found nothing. I'm babbling like a lunatic about how much i need the keys, and starting to get the feeling all hope is now finally lost. Until the head has the bright idea to call my head, and ask how to open the drawer.

Full of glee, i wait. Then told to go outside where i'm left for another 10 minutes. By now its 3.30, and i'm really starting to get pissed off. But the searcher-head comes out waggling the keys, takes the tie from me, and retreats back into the safety of her shitty little office. And i go home, victorious.

But thats not the end of the story. The kicker is the worst thing ever. When i recounted this story to my mother, she had only one thing to say.

"Why didn't you get the spare tie out your locker?"

Fml