Snow in my wellies

Take two little boys, one blue plastic sledge, a good steep North Yorkshire hill and a smattering of snow.

Mix it up and what have you got? A brilliant memory to treasure for a lifetime!

Actually, we’ve had more than a smattering of snow, and the two little boys’ impeccable behaviour came to an abrupt end when my 10 year old threw a bucketful of cold snow down the back of my 3 year old’s neck. Nice.

School’s out today, and so is nursery. Let me tell you, they’re both worth every penny for taking these two off my hands. It’s a miracle we can make it through a full day without murdering one another.

That said, the hour we spent scooting down the hill in turns, and then hiking back up again for another go were truly fantastic. The sun shone, the dirty sheep snuffled in the snow for something to eat, and we laughed our heads off as we fell and rolled about in the powdery loveliness.

Someone made a ‘ramp’ on the sledging path, and as I hurtled towards it with my ample weight pinned behind George’s, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Sadly, as our sledge flipped up into the air for what should have been an impressive trick, it was my backside which actually flashed before everyone else’s eyes as I came a right cropper, John Noakes style, with a giant thwack onto my left buttock. I await the bruise.

I have such great memories of doing this as a kid, so I can only hope that this idyllic afternoon stays with my boys for a long time to come in much the same way. Recorded for posterity on our lifelines at, we’re now sure to never forget it.

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