It's rare that I genuinely hate being in Lancaster...

... but calls from the 'rents like this --

Mother: Hi! Just calling to see if you've got any snow yet?
Me: ...No, why would we?
Mother: Oh. Well.. it's been snowing all day here. I haven't seen it this deep in years.
Me: ...
Mother: We're looking to get snowed in if it carries on.
Me: ...
Mother: I can't believe you haven't got anything.
Me: No. We have nothing.

-- make me wonder why I was so stupid and dismissed the idea of going home Wednesday afternoon.

I love snow. I love snow more than I love Wimbledon. If I could walk to Wales right now, I would but 'rents say they can't get the car out to pick me up from the station, even if the trains do get through.

It's just-- like someone, something, some fucking weather deity out there, is just taking the piss. IIt makes me sure that I will never, ever live in Lancaster after this year. The dumb weather has finally pissed me off beyond redemption.

edit: This is my excuse to go buy another pack of Hobnobs from the shop and bond with them while I mainline the second half of Stargate series 8. I'll be over here sulking. With chocolate Hobnobs. And lots of coffee.

Stupid dumb city.