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