If you’ve had your fill of hearing about snow and ice, don’t stop reading just yet however.
I was going to address the reader who accused me of being an ‘upper class twit’ and bullying lowly paid workers over last week’s column, but in the spirit of that particular muse about being nicer to each other, we’ll let that pass.
Don’t panic, this isn’t going to become one of those ‘why does Britain grind to a halt’ rants or memories of how we all still coped and schools didn’t shut back in the good old days when drifts were 200ft deep and the temperature was minus 65 every day for four months.
We’ve all heard enough of the travel disruption, school closures and stranded drivers.
Instead, I’d like to go look at the nicer side of snow - the picture postcard landscapes, the snowball fights, the fun and joy of building a snowman, even though as the dad of two children, one a teen and one nearly there, that particular pleasure has now gone.
Sadly, for those of us with jobs and the necessity to get our desks, snow is very much a thing to be suffered rather than enjoyed most of the time.
Fortunately, as the blizzards swept in last week, I was able to work from home.
Handy, as my children’s schools were both shut and so didn’t have many options otherwise. It allowed me to mix work and pleasure, combining the odd snowball fight here and there with some video reportage from the side of snow coated dual carriageways and parks across Doncaster.
You start to gain a bit of respect for those shivering BBC correpsondents you see standing in far-flung places when you’ve tried to live stream on a poor WiFi connection and with your fingers so frozen to the bone that it’s a struggle to press the record button.
Of course, any News At Ten aspirations also go out of the window when you’ve got your giggling youngsters chucking snowballs at you, despite being expressly told not to.
I suppose telling them to be good while dad does some work was only ever going to make landing a lump of ice on the side of my bonce ever more appealing.
Mind, after the initial excitement of fresh snow to frolic in and three (count ‘em) days off school, all of a sudden, even to a kid, snow loses its appeal somewhat.
No one likes trudging around in black slush or slipping on ice and when even the simplest chore means ten minutes of defrosting the car, then eventually there’s zero fun to be had and you become heartily sick of the white stuff.
“Roll on summer,” is a mantra I’ve heard a lot these past few weeks.
When of course we’ll all be able to sit around grumbling about how we’re all too hot and sticky.