I'm sure everyone is sick of the snow talk by now given how much we've had this week (for England, anyway - if you're from Russia, we've had what you'd probably call spring), but I'm going to prolong it regardless as I am an avid fan of the white stuff (snow I mean, not... the other white stuff). Never one to let an opportunity pass, I went sledging on Friday morning for the first time since I was roughly 9 years old. I want to say it was an hour and a half of smooth, composed gliding down a magical sheet of glistening white snow, but in actuality it was an hour and a half of me shouting, "Natalie! Look! Look at me - wait, oh shit, NAT - ARGHH!" and then hearing my friend Nat's evil cackle as I go flying headfirst through the air, landing in an ungraceful heap several feet away. Staggering home from work on Friday night in the midst of a snow blizzard resulted in a not dissimilar situation and, at times, very closely resembled a variety of scenes from the Stations of the Cross - The Traffic Lights at the Junction of the Brown Cow Pub: Amy Falls for the Third Time. I battled on through the raging night and eventually made it home to be greeted by the warm and welcoming face of the snowman I had built the previous day, despite my mother's cruel and discouraging remarks about my age.
I think, "For God's sake, Amy, how old are you?" is probably one of my mum's most used phrases. I might just make myself a badge that says, "I'm 22, and although my current actions may not accurately portray this, I still feel that what I am doing and saying is appropriate and probably highly entertaining." She was most disgruntled the other week when we were driving to Lancashire and I said, 15 minutes into the journey, that I needed a wee. I'm not sure how her asking me my age was really relevant to this particular scenario, as surely getting old does not eliminate the need to use the bathroom? Quite the contrary, I've been led to believe. Although, she may actually have been referring to my booing from the back seat every time we drove past a sign saying Lancashire... (Sorry Lancashire people, I've nothing against you really. Apart from the fact that you're from Lancashire. Which is enough reason to dislike you in itself, if we're honest. No, I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I'm not really that shallow...). I feel like, in terms of age, I flit between doing things that are commonplace for someone decidedly younger than myself, for example, building snowmen and playing tricks on my co-workers, and involving myself in activities that are meant for people much, much older, for example, playing Bingo in the pub with my friend Paul. I don't want to admit it, to myself, least of all the internet, but it has got to that stage in my life where winning at Bingo is something that excites me a significant amount. I feel the only saving grace that makes it slightly more acceptable is the knowledge that I spent my winnings solely (the one and only time I won) on alcohol and not spare Bingo markers.
In other news, I was "accidentally" groped at work last week by Other Amy, who I have now taken to affectionately referring to as Preds (short for Sexual Predator, obviously). I'm glad I've finally settled on a name for her - I was ever so slightly concerned when she first started working there that one of us was going to be given an unfortunate prefix to differentiate between the two. It always happens when there's more than one person of the same name in the same place - you know the names I mean - Gay Joe, Ginger Dave, Big Fat Susan. I've been on tenterhooks since Other Amy started, worried that people would start referring to me as Weird Amy or Immature Amy or You-Know-Amy-The-One-That-Always-Makes-Inappropriate-Jokes-And-Once-Dropped-An-Entire-Joint-Of-Ham-On-A-Customer's-Foot, so I'm more than relieved that she has made a name for herself without dragging mine through the mud. Granted, I'm not sure Sexual Predator is really the name she would have chosen for herself given the choice, but fate has its way of controlling these things, and who am I to argue with fate?