fibbing of flurries

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Much of Australia gets a heatwave. Much of North America gets a Polar Vortex {which to me sounds like a film about bears in space}. Meanwhile, England - my bit, anyway - is umming and ahhing over whether the weather should be unseasonably warm, unseasonably cold, snowy, rainy, windy, frosty, icy ... Make. Up. Your. Mind. {Say I, to the weather.} My weather app - supported by the Met Office - informs me that my small, flat town is currently suffering from heavy snow. I was very excited. Until I peeked through the curtains and discovered that it was fibbing. No snow here, kids, unless mine eyes deceiveth me. Oh, wait. I spy snow. Through the grubby bus windows, and the darkness of a cloudy pre-sunrise morning, I can just make out patches of white on grass and parked cars in this little village we pass through. As a brief aside, this bus driver is really violent. Not physically, obviously. Heavens! No, just with his speedy-brakey driving. I've nearly ended up on the chap in the seat in front of me at least five times, and an empty bottle has whizzed from the very back of the bus, to the very front. It hurtled past, it did. And now, twelve miles from home, there is a bit more snow. But it will be gone within hours, and winter will be over before it's begun. Also, the bus is starting to fill up with people. Soon the silence will exist no more and I shall feel the need to listen to inane and inconsequential conversations which are best left unspoken. Niece day today. She's four now, don't you know? So much personality, so much chatter, so many moments of delightfulness. So much relief that I can simply pass her back to Mum & Dad at the end of the day! Stay warm, stay cool, stay happy.