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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

This morning, I was having the best dream in the world. I know this for definite because, when my mother burst into my bedroom at barely half past eight in the morning, my first thoughts were "She's just woken me up from the best dream in the world. This had better be good." I have absolutely no recollection of any details whatsoever of the aforementioned dream, but I would have a strong suspicion that the dream involved being wrapped in a duvet all cosy and warm and FAST ASLEEP unlike the nightmare I was by then living through.

"Yes?", I mumbled foggily at my mother, as she tore across the bedroom floor, Bobby nipping at her ankles in delight at the early and unexpected energy the new day had produced. My mother didn't answer, possibly because she didn't appreciate the tone I was adopting, but then again I'm not famed for my politeness first thing in the morning. I sat up to check the time while Bobby and my mother continued running around my bedroom, and lay back down in shock. Then another someone entered the bedroom, and now we were four and I knew something must be up: it was Butler, and he had brought with him a sock - never a good sign.

I sat up again, and stared at my mother, silently demanding answers. These she provided by opening the curtains just in time for a bright strike of lightning and almost immediate answer of rumbling thunder. "Yes?", I repeated, not sure when my mother confused me for a seven year old child who would be excited by a thunder storm first thing in the morning. She picked Bobby up, threw him on the bed at me, took the sock from Butler's mouth and said "It's snowing as well. That doesn't happen. Snow with thunder doesn't happen."

I'm not sure about you - I'm not sure about most people - but this isn't something that I've ever been worried about one way or another. But announced with such gravitas by my mother, surrounded as I was by panicking dogs and socks and first thing in the morning, I couldn't help but take it all slightly seriously.

"Why doesn't it happen?" My first full sentence of the day, and straight to the point. I'm not one for mucking about when the weather is being discussed. "Because thunder and lightning is produced by hot air and cold air meeting. That's why it rains. Not snows. If it's snowing, it's too cold for thunder and lightning." The thunder and lightning took that opportunity to disagree, and Butler dived for a slipper, upping his protests against the storm conditions. Bobby started yapping furiously. I hit him with a pillow, and we all stared out the window for a bit.

"Right then," I said, "I'm having coffee now."


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