Well, after a few days of it being around the rest of the country, the dreaded snowfall finally hit Bournemouth. We hoped it wouldn’t come – we expected our salty sea air would be enough to drive away the vengeance of mother nature. But we were wrong. We placed too much faith in hope, and we were seriously burned as a result.
Though not literally, because it was snow. Not fire.
But somehow, some way, I’ve managed to survive this first day. Day one post-snowgeddon, and I’m still here, fighting. I don’t know how I managed to adapt so quickly, but I guess it’s just another facet of human nature that is so utterly amazing. If you present us a situation, we will overcome. We will thrive. We will go on and push forward, and not even two inches of snow can hold us back.
Pre-day one of SG I was worried. My walks to work – which I started in the summer – had become colder with each passing week. It had already got to the point where I had to wear gloves, lest my fingers get a bit nippy. I was worried for myself, and it may seem selfish but that’s just how people get in extreme circumstances.
And while I survived and I am here post-day one of SG, it hasn’t been easy. I have paid a hefty price. I have lost things I can never get back, seen things I never hope to see again and experienced a side of my own personality I both didn’t know existed and that scared me. The trek to work was treacherous, but the hazardous conditions didn’t hold me back. Don’t let that fool you though, as the toll it took on my time – I arrived five minutes later than normal – means I have lost something I can never have back.
I don’t want to put myself across as a hero, and I know to claim one is humble is to defeat the very nature of humility – but after today, I just have to say it: I am a humble hero. I am worthy of worship. And my shoes are a bit wet.