You are never too old for a snow ball fight

It wasn't snowing when we went to bed last night but oh boy! did it make up for it while we were sleeping. And it continued to snow all day long so we not only had to dig our way out to take the kids to football training but we had to dig our way home again. Poor Sharan, the Mum-mobile we drive around in, is seriously not up to the job of getting us safely from A to B if conditions are less than perfect. I think she was manufactured by British Rail: the wrong kind of leaves, the wrong kind of rain or any kind of snow and you may as well walk. We've ordered a 4X4 as our next car but, this being Hungary and my life being governed by Sod, it will probably arrive just as everything thaws. I may yet have to work out how the hell these snow-chains fit.

So what can you do in the face of a half metre of snow outside your door? Go play in it of course. Pickle has made snow angels up and down the road, Nobby used the snow shovel to make a piste for the toboggans and Boy-Next-Door and I had a superb snowball fight; actually after a while there weren't so many actual balls of snow involved after Nobby showed him the advantages of using the shovel to fling maximum snow at one time and completely cover the opposition (me). I got him back pretty good though. And he was the first one of us to head inside, the wimp. Pickle and I made a snowman on the side of the road (I would say on the path but there is so much snow there is no way to tell where the road ends and the path begins, we were literally wading through it) and we've taught Boy-Next-Door's dog to catch snowballs when you throw them at him. Tiggy had a wonderful time getting thoroughly dug into the drifts and dragging Ike through them with her.

Poppet, on the other hand, has decided that she does not like snow and stayed indoors making bracelets. She has recently developed an allergy to fresh air and exercise in general; it's amazing how many stomach aches she's been having when the bell rings for break or lunchtime at school. Lucky for her the school secretary is as soft a touch as me and lets her read a book on the sick bed while all the other children play outside until her miraculous recovery when lessons resume. I did offer to take her to the doctor but apparently it's not bad enough to bother a doctor about. Hmmm.

I am not sure what this means for our skiing holiday - Poppet told Nobby today that 'Mummy said I can go in the club on the ski holiday, I hate skiing and I'm not doing it.' Of course I said no such thing. But I have a secret weapon up my sleeve - we are going on the school-organised trip so a lot of her friends and peers will be there and I reckon the desire not to lose face might spur her into her snow-trousers and out onto the piste. Fingers crossed anyway.

Anyway, now I reckon its time to complete the ski-trip rehearsal with a nice cup of Vin Chaud and a chocolate crepe. Oh yeah.