As the television reporter stood aside to reveal the tired, frustrated defeat of a hundred travellers trapped by the snow at Heathrow, one mad woman walked right through the shot ruining it with a smile. 

Josepha had grown-up in an age early enough for girls to still dream about meeting a prince without being corrected for sexism.  However, it was also recent enough for shop keeper’s daughter to dream about flying abroad to see the mountains of Italy or snowfall in Scotland.

One day a superstitious grown-up (there were many near Seville) told her “only once you have abandoned your dreams will they come true”.   Over the years she abandoned them alright; not as a means for making them true but because they proved impossible.

Josepha had needed to care for her parents from when she was nineteen.  When those twenty years of duty were over, all the princes had been snapped-up.   

Caring for her parents and having to work in the meat processing factory she had never earned enough for any holiday abroad let alone skiing in Italy or rolling in the Highland snow.  She had never been north of Madrid.

Josepha also realised that even if she could reverse time and change everything she would not want to do so.  Caring for her parents had been right.  If she had not been in her low paid job she would never have met her two best friends Maria and Do (short for Dolores).  Those two had supported her when the Doctor had broken the bad news to Josepha.  It had been Maria and Do who raised the money for the flight she needed to be treated in Birmingham, England.  Of course, because of the weather, all those trying to make the connection for Birmingham were stuck at Heathrow and were being offered train tickets instead.
   
Josepha walked right in front of the TV camera.  She walked over to the huge plate glass window.  She gazed toward the heavens who were throwing confetti down on humanity, casting it into the wind.  Spilling their glory and scattering their blessings to float through the sky.  One million hope flakes were flying around.  One million little dancers were fluttering with the breeze.

Everyone else who found the side entrance had wanted to sneak a quick fag while shuddering with cold, except that aging woman who bent down outside, scooped and rolled, scooped and rolled until she had nine inches of snow ball in her naked hands.

To the amazement of on-lookers, Josepha started to eat that snow. 

There is an age when you just stop caring what others think.  That age came to Josepha on 28th February 2018.
As she looked up, a child’s disapproving stare caught her eye.

“SSSSSSNOW!” she exclaimed to the child.  Then she explained in broken English;

“At la age of sixty and seven I am only discover SNOWWWW!”

“She must be foreign” whispered the boy’s mother. 

So there you have it; the story of that snow storm of Twenty eighteen.

Some people interpreted it as a disaster tale, sitting on the airport floor moaning about cancellations.  Some people interpreted it as a comedy, like the boy and his mum.  To Josepha it had a happy enough outcome.  She had got to fly to somewhere with snow after giving up that dream.  Let’s just leave her there, enjoying the snow. 

Ps You can be miserable again now, if you wish   Dee