Blonde's Eye View: White stuff in droves

We are suffering not so much from a cold snap, but from a cold war with Mother Nature. So much for global warming.

This, my friends, is the winter of our discontent, discomfort and disruption.

And I can't believe how boring it is. Snow was always a thing of magic; transforming a wasteland into a wonderland, casting a still, silent glow over an otherwise frantic life.

It's associated with impromptu days off, whizzing on sledges, building snowmen, snowball fights and hot toddies.

Every few years the white stuff would fall, and everyone would become a child again.

It only lasted a couple of days and then we would trudge once more through the dark rainy months of winter and wish it would return.

Well you should be careful what you wish for.

Snow is no longer fun, it's a pain in my frozen ass.

Nothing works, transport is defunct, the supermarkets are empty and I am fed up of having a red nose.

We keep getting enough to be an irritant, but not enough to justify a couple of weeks of duvet days.

Life has to go on and the snow just isn't playing ball.

For the first time ever I envy those who live outside Zone Two: apparently they always get inches upon inches there, and can never traverse the treacherous conditions to make it to the office, leaving us, cold, damp stalwarts who foolishly live locally, to carry the can.

Parties are cancelled, drinks with friends scrapped,

I even had to forfeit my opera tickets, all because of some frozen crystallised water. This weather is snow joke.