Today was meant to be the day that I moved into my new house.
I’d cleared my diary, booked the removal men, and my dad was on hand to help me. Yes, I’d seen the forecast, but I thought we’d just have a few flakes of snow, not enough to stop us – how wrong I was.
This morning I woke to a blanket of the white stuff stretching as far as the eye could see. The Winter Wonderland outside my window could have graced the front of a Christmas Card. It would have been the perfect frosty festive morning, instead it was the worst possible weather for moving house.
You can imagine my frustration as I thought about the mounds of snow in Switzerland where I was just two weeks ago. There it’s business as usual when the heavy snow is falling – in fact the tourism industry would suffer without it.
But here we seem to get just a little flurry and the whole country comes to a standstill. According to one news report I heard, it’s because the cost of investing in enough equipment to keep us going in all weathers is more than we lose when snow shuts us down. Nevertheless I was cross!
To calm me down we headed to the shop in my aunt’s 4×4, and as soon as we started along the snowy streets my anger started to melt (much more quickly than this snow will!). We passed people clearing their pathways, children playing in the park, and all around it was calm and peaceful.
Although that was soon shattered when we arrived back home to a snowball fight with the family. The sound of laughter filled the air as we transformed from uptight adults into carefree children enjoying a rare day off together.
And now as I sit here, surrounded by those I love with the smell of cooking coming from mum’s kitchen, I’m grateful for this unexpected snow day.