It rarely snows where I live and a white blanket of snow was always an exciting sight.

I was about 15 at the time and it had snowed non-stop all night. When I arrived at school the snow was about a foot deep and snowballs were already flying around the playground. We waited all morning, knowing that lunch time would come and we could get down to the serious business of a snowball fight.

It started off innocently enough. About a dozen of us walked onto the field and started to roll snowballs. A few were lobbed between us and slowly other kids started to join in. Before long we were consumed in a running battle with the year below. We took up a defensive position against a fence and prepared for the incoming barrage. The strategy of rolling huge snowballs was adopted, and then one poor kid would be cruelly targeted. Before too long the whole school was on the field throwing snowballs all over the place. Teachers tried in vain to order us off the field. There was a full-scale riot going on and it was our entire fault. We basked in the anarchy that we’d created.

When lunch ended we surveyed the aftermath. Over the 6 football pitches and running track, not a single snowflake remained

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