The postcard dawn brings the children to the windows, sky watching, weather willing, excitement brewing. Their shrill prayers raise the alarm, forcing fathers to leave their winning lap in Monte Carlo to travel a more mundane route in search of a forgotten station, who, once informed will seal the fate and broadcast to the nation.

Mum’s cupboard riffle; planning a woolly assault on chilblains, sizing waterproofs and reuniting long lost gloves, tempting teenagers out of their lair with promises of hot chocolate and cyber friends.

School’s closed, snow’s here!    

A communal roar breaks the wintry silence, as young children slip their academic leash in search of natures lessons.  They rush towards future memories, oblivious to the chill, grabbing brightly coloured sheets of unforgiving plastic and climbing, once boring, hills, delighting in the external snow globe that tickles their noses.

Fat flakes silently make their earthly descent and nature’s confetti kisses child brides who dance like joyful angels, with the modern world forgotten. Fledgling adults forget their projection and remember what it is like to live in the moment, to slip and be caught be a loving parent and bask in their embrace.

The heavy skies darken; Mother Nature’s pillow fight persists. Jack frost arrives to join in, chasing away the humans, numbing their toes and nipping at their fingers. Home they trudge, a longer, heavier journey.         

Inside once more they steam, removing endless layers, thankful for radiators, open fires and hot chocolate. Young children clutch their special friends, whilst cocooned in love and duck down, almost adults return to their virtual world to tell tales of daring and prowess, as adults snuggle, warmed by the fire and the fleeting return to family life, half hoping for another offering from the mother of all mothers.