The drive home last night was not pleasant. The snow hit my windscreen, a kaleidoscope of whirling white in the headlights. The snowploughs had been and gone, and the snow seemed to be winning the battle. Not far now. A glow in the sky marks home. Onwards, in a silent swirling world. This morning the car is covered with an icy blanket, and the entrance to the drive has been blocked by the plough. A plea for help, and the cavalry arrives, clearing a path to the road.