Snow in North Hampshire and the Thames Valley

Moving a hundred yards in ninety minutes of gridlock, I abandon my car, and with a surge of adrenalin make for home on foot. A thick confetti of snow fills the air, and a fey light dwindles into a leaden darkness. Depleted of colour and reverberation, an eerie quiet smothers suburbia.

The chromatic uniformity is punctuated only by the twinkling hues of residential christmas illuminations. Striding past up-market properties where town blends into countryside, a couple of small replica reindeer stand in a front garden, their shapes traced by amber lights, exquisitely beautiful now in the deepening snowfield.

And then into the countryside, with no pavement, no light, and only the occasional car, rolling gingerly past in 2nd gear, to disturb the sonic claustrophobia. I am totally at the mercy of these drivers. Hemmed in between the snow-laden hedgerows, there is no escape-route; if one of these cars loses control, I will be smacked off my feet, my legs crushed, crumpled and shattered.

Finally, striding through drifts deeper than my shoes, I reach the farmhouse, and the light, warmth, sound and colour of home. All I need to do now, is do it all again tomorrow to retrieve my car...