It was described as the worst snowfall in the UK for 20 odd years. But I’m pretty sure all those who got to slide around in city parks, making the odd igloo and jibbing the odd picnic bench, would consider it the best?!
I was at work when the first flurries of snowflakes came floating down upon southern England last week – a day later than those that blanketed the capital with their feathery whiteness. Flurries that were to cause 5000 schools to shut across the country – in one day, cause havoc on the roads and induce a chaotic meltdown of the whole of the London transport system whilst grinding other cities virtually to a halt.
Ever since moving back from Whistler three and a half years ago, I have vowed to snowboard right here in the city of Bristol where I live, should there ever be just an inkling of snow.
So a dusting was all it took for me and my Canadian to scrabble up in the loft, hurl our boots down the stairs, pull on our snowboard pants over our jeans and set off through our city suburb to the fields that lie just beyond for some slippery action.
But the snow kept falling and yet another day at work was cancelled so ensuring we were well hydrated, we set off once again, this time to higher ground and a few more inches of snow.
We squelched our way through mud and slush, crossed streams and trudged through woods edging our way deep into the back country of North Somerset where we strapped in and did the unthinkable – carved ourselves some fresh lines on English soil, avoiding the cow-pat as we slid.
Tags: England, Snowboarding
