It was a cold, blustery, and incredibly snowy Friday when my mates and I decided to throw assignments to the wind and trek up to Clifton for what was shaping up to be one of the biggest snowball fights the UK had ever seen. With 2.6k interested and over 600 planning to attend, we had high hopes for what chaos would ensue, and were absolutely not disappointed.
After 15 minutes of not finding anyone (the Downs are pretty f-ing big!), and making our own little snow war, we saw the growing crowd in the distance and decided we had to be a part of it.
‘It was such a chaotic rush, I could barely see anybody for those 5 minute battles,’ said Evan (an aforementioned on of my mates). I couldn’t agree more – anyone that looked from outside of the huge cluster of people could see nothing but flailing arms and snowy explosions as projectiles collided and crumbled mid-air.
Who knows what it is about snow-days that make us all into such children, but you could feel that the energy was nothing but delight. There was laughter all around, friends shielding each other, and friends turning instead to pelt each other round the head with some snow.
I almost considered skipping it to do essays, until I realised: essays will always be there. When will I be able to say ‘Fuck it!’ and run straight into a charging army of fun, snow covered strangers?