These are the dog days of winter; you get glimpses of the end, as happened last week. The temperature stayed above freezing for a couple of days, the sun shone and the snow began to melt. Windows were opened on Saturday morning to let in some fresh air in a house that hadn't breathed it for nigh on four months. I spent an enjoyable two hours traipsing up and down Muroran dake while Cian and Sanae allegedly practiced their skiing (though all they had to show for their efforts were some hot cocoa stains around their mouths).

And then a cold air mass slunk out of Siberia and relentlessly pushed its way south. As I write the snow is falling thick and fast and the weather forecaster said we could prepare ourselves and our snow shovels for 50 centimetres of snow tonight. Which means that the Gaynor-Takahashi Specialist Snow Clearing Squadron will have to get out of bed extra early tomorrow morning. Or rather the Irish member of the GTSSCS will have to haul his hairy ass out of bed and around 5:30am and start clearing snow.

And I wasn't even born in this feckin part of the world. Not even feckin close.

You would think that those that call themselves 'dosanko' (Japanese for those born in Hokkaido) would be naturally inclined towards all this freezing weather snow shite, but no; the only thing they are inclined to do is to pull the blankets up further and warn me not to bang the door on my way outside.