Am I Getting Old?

A few years ago in early adolescence, opening my curtains to be greeted by the magical site of a pure white blanket of snow covering the ground was one of the best feelings in the world, as this would mean either a day off school, or a vicious battlefield of snowballs at break time! Who could build the best snow man, eat the most snow or even get the teacher in the eye? Could the day get any more exciting?

However, now at the age of seventeen this novelty has deteriorated, to the extent that the snow can even feel like an inconvenience. No longer is it the pretty, wondrous material for a icy grenade; it is merely freezing cold, wet, slippery precipitation that makes your trousers wet and causes you to drive at stupidly low speeds on the way to school.

However, this is not the feeling for everyone. This morning, Great Britain awoke to the blinding sight of snow covering the world outside their windows. Children made cries of happiness; babies stared in ore, whilst adults groaned as they pulled their coats on to start their car engines early, knowing of the chaos the day would probably bring. Unfortunately, I must say I was with the adults on this one. Of course the prospect of a day off school seemed appealing, though only because I had coursework to do and really wanted to spend a few more hours in bed, rather than wanting to soak myself outside. Though this turned out to be wishful thinking, as the school remained open, meaning that we would all have to drag ourselves from under the duvet into the cold. After waiting in the snow for ten, whole minutes shivering and praying that the bus would not turn up; it did. Even though I was pleased to be out of the falling flakes, this was still a rather grim experience, as I could see my breath when I spoke, (which wasn’t often because no one was in the mood for conversation, in fact, many were sleeping). A bus without heating? These days? Honestly!

When arriving at school, my preconceptions were proved correct, well almost. It was definitely difficult to walk for fear of the humiliation that would be suffered if I was to slip over on the icy ground. It was equally difficult to feel my fingers or toes because they were so cold and there were indeed students acting out their snow –war fantasies, (scaring the life out of me as I attempted to cross no man’ land), however, as I entered the sixth form common room my eyes were given an unexpected surprise! Amongst the soldiers creating carnage out on the field were my fellow sixth formers! Sixth formers! One single change in weather; a drop in temperature had transformed my seventeen and eighteen year old peers back to their ten year old selves overnight!

I was relieved to see that the majority of these ‘big kids’ were male, as I found myself surrounded by girls on sofas, though it wasn’t long before a large number of them joined the madness outside. This caused me to consider, am I getting old? Am I maturing too fast and lost my childhood forever? On the other hand, maybe I’m simply more sensible than to get myself soaked-through. You’d think that since we hardly ever see snow in the UK I’d be more interested but unfortunately this has not been the case. What do you think? Please let me know. Are you also a teenager who is not amused by snow? Or am I just getting old?