Dramatis Personae

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Monday, February 02, 2009

It's snowing in Old Europe

'If snow be white,' wrote our immortal bard, 'why then her breasts are dun'. Whether this is a line about cooking chicken, or an odd, but early assessment of John Donne, it was doubtless ringing in the ears of the jubilant schoolchildren who covered the hill opposite my garret (pictured below). I could see hundreds of them: fighting, tobogganing, throwing snow balls. Lacking sleds, they improvised with various contraptions: shopping trolleys; real estate agent's boards; old doors. I stepped decorously to the side as one brute hurtled past, screaming something less than Shakespearean.

 Scribble some marginalia

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