Snow Rest For The Wicked

How much I wished I was a child today.

When Baby Brother and I were younger, we lived around 30 miles from our high school, so when winter hit properly, we could often be snowed in for a whole week, six-foot drifts making the roads unpassable for all vehicles, never mind school buses.

But instead, as Aberdeen was smothered beneath a blanket of white powder, I was in my company's office from 8am to 5pm attempting to make sense of dozens of interlocked spreadsheets forecasting vessel utilisation and other equally riveting topics.

What I would have given to have instead spent the morning launching snowballs at Baby Brother and sledging down increasingly steep slopes, before moving inside once I'd lost all feeling in my extremities to warm up beside the fire.