27 sleeps to go (or -6° revenge)....

Well buenas noches! Following an incredibly cold day- heading down to -6° before taking into account the wind-chill (that is cold for this area!) we are now having more snow here in the Trent basin of North Lincolnshire.

Today we set off eagerly for Church only to get half a mile or so down the road, sliding only gently towards the curb every time the steering wheel was turned from the straight forward position, when we passed our first wiped-out vehicle which had closed one of the lanes. As we overtook the paramedic and the police directing the traffic we decided that maybe a journey to Lincoln was not such a good idea so (carefully) turned around and headed home.

Our road is currently under about two-inches of ice and is as slippery as a large eel that has recently returned from being slimed by a flock of marauding used-car selling snails.

After tobogganing our van to a stop we returned to our warm home, lit a large fire and held Family Home Evening followed by a marathon session of Christmas movies, starting with my all-time favourite movie the Muppet Christmas Carol. What can be better than straight-laced Michal Cain threatening redundancy to the self-effacing little green Bob Cratchett? If there is something I do not want to know!

Following a hot-chocolate-with-marshmallows-and-cream swilling, pyjama-wearing day my father (Grampsy West) came to visit so he, Samuel and I set off for an impromptu snowball fight with Pudding in tow.

One of my earliest memories was living in Rainworth and having a snowball fight with Dad. As I chased him around the corner of our house he pounded this helpless five-year old in the face with a snowball. The shock, cold and pain caused me to cry my little eyes out, which noise prompted one of our neighbours to bring round a pack of 5-4-3-2-1 chocolate bars in an effort to buy my silence.

Thankfully the competitive nature of my father has subsided with his hairline and, while snowballs rained down with the abandon of a Luftwaffe on speed, injuries were minimal. Both Sam and I were also able to get some payback for the above-mentioned prior injustice. Revenge is best served ice cold… and down the back.