Let it...

Word is that we'll get snow this weekend. I love snow. I love a proper cold winter.

Being the first person to walk on virgin snow. Crunchy footsteps, before it gets slippery and slushy. Standing in the silent snowfall - everything seems muted and it feels like you're the only person for miles around.

But...

I don't like snowball fights. I don't want snow thrown at me. Ever. OK?

There's a series of ads on TV at the moment for a savings bank - various scenes of joy illustrating how great it feels to save. A little girl in wellies jumping in puddles. A boy doing a super long wheelie on his bike. A gang of beautiful people having a snowball fight.

Give me a puddle, I'll jump in it. If I'd ever done a wheelie in my life, I know that holding it for a long time would give me oodles of pleasure. But stepping out of my back door to be bombarded with lumps of compacted snow that sting and are likely to break my glasses? No thanks.