WHAT is it about snow that brings the Shackleton fever out in us?

Even though I am in my 60s I still watch out of my window with the garden light backdrop when snow silently blankets the land.

It is also the only time my garden looks as fine as my neighbour’s.

I grew up close to woods and I love the trees covered in a wintry blanket and the icy tentacles that hang down from their boughs.

I enjoy watching children building snowmen, snowwomen, snowballs, and any other thing you can actually make with snow.

I enjoy watching the families who probably have not been out together for ages walking by, pulling the little ones on sledges.

I even enjoy the skiers as they pass by dressed like slalom racers, and I even do not mind the slightly smug look they portray, saying “Look at us and where we go for our winter break”.

I smile at the 4x4 drivers who make light of the slippery roads and are at last able to justify the reason for their mode of transport.

I suppose the real reason I like snow is because it reminds me of when I was young and knew not the ways of the world; when the dull grey of a British winter would suddenly blaze white and change the drab countryside into the winter wonderland that brings lightness into the hearts of everyone.

Of course there is a downside, especially for those who are stuck in their cars trying to get to or from their business, but fortunately serious winter weather happens rarely in southern Britain, and even these people, once rested, fed, and warmed, can enjoy Father Snow as he dances across our beautiful Hampshire landscape.

PADDY MAXWELL, Southampton.