Sometimes I hate this city.
Sometimes the cold seeps into my bones, and the grey of the sky shakes its fist at me and threatens to never give way. Sometimes the bus driver sneers at me for no reason and I can't help but notice the dirt on everything and I feel like I'm breathing in a mix of soot and exhaust and sweat and hatred and I'll never be clean, really clean, again. Sometimes I sit staring at Air New Zealand's website, my finger suspending over the 'Purchase Ticket' button, fantasizing about living at the beach and becoming a hermit and swimming naked in the lagoon every morning and just getting as far away as I can from this hostile, filthy, expensive, lonely city.
Last night, walking home along the bank of the Thames, snow falling around me for as far as I could see, all the way up the river and over the line of the cityscape, each flake illuminated, like looking up at the stars (which I miss, terribly), only to find them moving and swirling around you... was not one of those times.
C'mere, London. I know you can be a mean old bitch sometimes, but I still loves ya.
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This is a 
It was snowing over here in Dublin yesterday too (and today!), and although it was Monday, and although I'm all 'fluey, and although I was late, and although I just wanted to stay in bed, the sight of the snow falling all around as I drove down towards the sea brought a smile to my face and made me feel all warm (even though it was cooooold) and 10 years old.
Snow yeah? It ROCKS ASS.