It’s true what they say about Scotland experiencing all four seasons in one day.
As I sit in my office writing this, I’ve got my blinds closed to keep out the glaring sun but I can hear the wind howling outside and, if I peek through the window, I can still see the last remnants of snow lying around.
I’ve got my blinds closed to keep out the glaring sun but I can hear the wind howling outside and, if I peek through the window, I can still see the last remnants of snow lying around
There’s no doubt winter is my least favourite season. I don’t mind the rain and I’m happy to wrap up when the temperatures plummet but it’s the combination of the two I can’t abide - you know what I mean, that driving ice cold rain that feels like bullets as it peppers your body.
And I’m not a fan of snow either, at least not since I started work and the arrival of the white stuff meant a treacherous drive to the office rather than building snowmen, sledging, snowball fights and a welcoming cup of hot chocolate when the cold inevitably proved too much.
With the most recent downfall coming over the weekend, however, I decided to revisit my youth and take my nine-year-old out for a spot of sledging.
Regular readers of this column may well be aware that Calum is a magnet for mess but, with a thick blanket of snow, I reckoned the worst I could expect would be a sodden pair of socks or gloves.
Oh how wrong I was.
After a few regular trips down the slopes - one of which even saw me joining him - he decided it would be more fun to steer his sledge under a tree ... and into a huge muddy puddle.
That brought proceedings to an abrupt end and, as we headed home, ignoring the strange looks as we went, my new-found passion for snow quickly evaporated.