I was worse than a chavette getting ready for a night out this morning. My first attempt to walk to my van resulted in almost breaking my neck on the frozen slush outside my door. I went back in and changed my shoes for trainers… these got me as far as the gate before I started doing dance moves again. Back in my walk-in wardrobe, I dug out an old pair of Army boots (believe it or not I was never actually in the Army… was just a foot model for them for a while.) These worked, the war was won.

I woke up two days ago to snow and sheet ice and haven’t left my ghetto flat since.  My first reaction to this was one of joy, akin to a small boy at Christmas whose excitement cannot be contained. I scoffed breakfast down, left my tea steaming on the side before heading out into a small blizzard with my bewildered missus in tow.

It's not meant to snow in Cornwall, but even we haven't avoided the icy grip of winter. What's worse is I am the idiot who made it to the office this morning, just before it started, now I am stuck.