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Last year, England had a white Christmas. Due to winds blowing weather from the Arctic, the snowfall was heavier than usual, a good thing or bad, depending on your point of view. As children, me and my brother saw the snow as a decidedly good thing. Snow means days of school - what could be better? For the parents, snow usually means being stuck indoors with their excited offspring thinking that they'd rather be at work than supervise the children.
Last winter, however, my step-dad decided to come out and enjoy the snow with us. I don't mean to boast, but his artistic skills are higher than average. My brother and I rolled a huge ball of snow in the car park next to our flat and set it down where it could be admired by all - "Have you seen the snowball down the street? It is the most magnificent snowball I have seen, I must say, Jerald."
My step-dad got to work rolling another ball of snow whilst I used the cheese-slicer to chisel out a fish tale - you must marvel at its smoothness, ladies and gentlemen! - and carve the rock on which the disembodied tail sat.
Placing the rolled ball of snow on top of this, my step-dad proceeded to carve a waist, bust, neck and shoulders, whilst positioning a hand, cleverly placed to support the upper body. A head was placed atop of the neck, icicles from the gutter arranged as a crown on her hair. She was our own mermaid.
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