After many meteorological threats that I chose to completely ignore – I prefer to let these things be a surprise and they pretty much always are, usually when I have just hung out my washing, set out on a long dog walk, or forgotten to stock up on pellets for the heater – the Siberian snow finally struck our little corner of Liguria.

On the first day it spared my village altogether and simply coated the peaks of the surrounding hills in an attractive but not remotely inconvenient way. I was happy just peering at it from the comfort of my sitting room, but my other half is of a more adventurous disposition and proclaimed the necessity for driving up the hill towards the next village in order to chuck a few snowballs. Which we did, and with the help/hindrance of the dog he even managed to construct a rather decent snowman.

The very next day proved itself to be an extremely promising melting day which led me to believe that that would be our lot for the season. Whoopee doo, winter is over, now it will just be a question of waiting for spring, thought I. Wrongly, as it happens, for hot (or rather, cold) on the heels of that extremely promising melting day, came a distinctly unpromising day of continuous snowfall.

It was not even the nice, fluffy and pure white stuff, but slushy and damp in dreary shades of grey. Even the dog refused point blank to go outside in it, and he absolutely loves snow. Instead he curled himself into a resolute little ball on the sofa and I could almost see him mentally willing his bladder not to urge him out into such chilly nastiness.

The snow barely settled at all for the first five or six hours; simply melting away upon impact with any solid surface. But by mid-afternoon it had become more tenacious and before long it was stealthily coating trees, cars and pavements, much to the excitement of all my neighbours’ children who were noisily giddy with expectations of snowball fights and days off school.

But they were to be disappointed, for the next morning we were confronted with slushy snow that had turned to sheet ice during some very strong winds that had materialised during the night. Any snowballs would have to have been cut out with hacksaws, and would have been distinctly unsuitable for safe throwing.

So it was that the school didn’t close, the snow didn’t lend itself to any extra-curricular activities and it instead conspired to make all aspects of everyday life that bit more difficult. The 54 steep steps from my house to the street were impossibly slippery; the pavements corduroy pleats of frozen water, and the temperatures remained stubbornly under the zero mark.

The dog eventually consented to leave the house, but despite the warmth of his stripy winter coat the struggle to find purchase on slippery ground meant that he did not enjoy the experience one little bit. This being my first winter with the pellet heater, I fear I may have also underestimated how many sacks I would require to get me through the cold months.

Back in the summer I took advantage of the low prices to order myself an entire bancale of 68 sacks, but at the present rate of a sack a day, I am now down to about 14. I may be able to order another bancale, going halves with a friend who finds himself in the same predicament, but buying fuel in winter is far less economical. A lesson to be learnt for next year!

And then one morning I awoke to find that my water pipes had frozen solid! Unfortunately they run up the outside of the building, and despite being fairly heavily lagged, their coverings were no match for this cold snap. I followed advice just to leave the taps open – I felt that trying to warm them artificially might cause a crack – and by about two o’clock in the afternoon, water started to drip through and I could make myself a much longed-for cup of tea. I’m now ready for spring please!

Kirtsy