These incredulous words burst forth from my number one sons mouth late yesterday afternoon, a testament to both his Scottish heritage and his advancing years. Gone was the childish delight in the dance of the frozen flakes, at times a sedate progress to the ground, at others a merry jig when the wind joined in.
That youthful joy had been replaced by a rather adult concern " How am I going to get to school tomorrow? "
His fears seemed unfounded as the brief flurry made hardly any impact and the light dusting had disappeared before we went to bed.
The rather strange glow in the house when I awoke at 4 this morning alerted me to the possibility that the earlier flurry had just been a teaser. I was right. This was the sight that greeted us this morning.
Number one son was not a happy boy! I could hear him grumbling all the way down the hill.
Well, he can grumble all he likes. For my part I'm going to enjoy the rather tranquil view while it lasts ( it's melting as I type ) in the hope it will put me in a more festive mood.