A bright white living nightmare

Walking down the street yesterday, I felt a thump on my shoulder.

I spun round to see a couple of giggling kids wielding snowballs. Immediately, I ducked behind a car, scooped up some snow and fired one back. It soared away to the right, way off target. I pulled a face, the kids grinned back, and so began several hilarious minutes of snow-flinging in which I did eventually manage to get a few shots on target (though the youngsters were way better). Then suddenly I realised: what on Earth were we doing? How DARE we enjoy the snow when, as all the media is telling us today, it's costing the economy MILLIONS OF POUNDS?!

Here's a two-minute poetic explanation, filmed in the snow yesterday, with the text below (some of you may have heard this before; it was great to finally get to film it in the appropriate weather!):

A billion pounds so far, apparently

Today I awoke into a bright, white, living nightmare.

I stared, horrified, as the fat flakes settled gently

On my driveway and lawn

Topping each gatepost with a fluffy white fez

Transforming the hedgerow into an indigestible

But beautiful

Christmas cake,

And I cried “Oh my God!

What about the economy?”

As I walked to the park I stared with mounting panic

At the parked cars adorning the street

Each coated three inches deep

Or with patches swept clean

Arsenals for snowball fights

I almost wept to think of the petrol not being burned

Of the mindless tasks not being performed

In offices thirty miles away.

In the park, it only got worse.

Children and adults were laughing together

Whole streets united in play

Great snowy constructions were rising from the ground

As the treacherous flakes continued to fall

Ramps, forts and igloos,

A menagerie of assorted snow-beings

Icy sculptures of ethereal beauty

Or lumpy majesty

My head went light and I struggled not to faint

At the thought of all that creativity

Hard work and productivity

Not being spent on the tedious administrative tasks

And the learning of pointless facts by rote

So vital to the functioning of a modern economy.

A newly fostered sense of community

Of shared experience and humanity

And the kind of childlike wonder

That reminds us that it’s good to be alive

Is all very well

But it’s not going to revive the flagging FTSE 100 share index now, is it?

I went back home to get my snowplough

They’ll thank me for this one day.