As a peculiarly fair-minded guest (an Englishman to boot) pointed out on Sunday, we have simply become ungrateful. Four days of temperature in the twenties and like certain labradors we know, we are whingeing, ‘but we always…’ Ay think not. Temperatures around five centigrade are perfectly legit for the time of year. But I was working with some concentration in mid afternoon when Miss Kit suddenly got up and said ‘Out Now’. I looked up, and the garden was full of whirling white flakes. Clever little creature that she is, she had picked this up and decided she needed to get into the garden before things got any worse. A wee was had, in double quick time. I must say, at this time of year, one does not love snow.