Snow Way

I’ve taken every single shelf out of the fridge, turned the dial on the bugger to super bloody cold. I have the door wide open and a high velocity fan pointing into this empty white plastic cupboard. I have Dads best chisel, nice broad head, very sharp. I crouch and scuttle in arse first backwards. I got the ski clothes on from Thredbo last year, they still fit, so there is that! I sit there after putting a ski show on the free channel on the tele. I’m not a big fan of the snow or the cold but I love the SHISSSSHHH SHISSSSHHH noise the skiers make as they pull those amazing corners. Slowly and lightly I scrape the icy walls off the inside of Mums Kelvinator, it flakes off and rides the will of the fan, mostly blowing back into my face. It’s thirty six degrees centigrade outside today, it will probably climb a coupla more degrees and for some inane reason I wanted to make my own snow. And look, here’ I am; living the dream. I shiver and I scrape, I wipe my brow to clear the flakes I have made. Outside the fridge it is a sludgy mess of melted ice and dirty footprints, I wore my little sisters Blunnys cause there’s no way I was gonna get my Reeboks wet – As If! I’m still scraping away in my fridge, it’s definitely not a winter wonderland but I have some stunning summer bloody snow.