Let it snow.

Let it snow- the winter snows have arrived.

Oh yes folks. It's snowing. Yippee! After an absence of a couple of years now the snow they've been confidently predicting for a while is finally falling and how we've missed it. It's rather like an emotional re-union with an old friend. This is not to say that we've forgotten what it looks like but more of a delightful reminder of winters long since gone when it seemed to snow for ever.

You know the stuff I'm referring to. There were those thick white flakes that slanted across our towns, cities, farmlands and motorways with an almost refreshing and slightly nostalgic consistency. It swept across roads and streets, floating across our British landscapes and then bouncing gracefully onto wet pavements with all the grace of a Nureyev or Wayne Sleep.

Yes that's it. There was a balletic quality about snow, twisting and turning in the sky before briefly pirouetting in the air. It would fall from the slate grey sky steadily and tentatively as if ever so slightly self conscious at first but then with purpose and meaning. And now it's here again on cue. It still feels as if it's late because as we all know it should snow on Christmas Day so maybe we should tell if off and order it to come back again when we're all ready for it. Still, it's nice to see you again snow. You're a welcome sight. You're looking healthier than ever before. You could be accused of a lack of punctuality but you'll never hear me complaining. Now that sounds like an old song.

But the snow I'm talking about is the snow I can remember from another age. In the mid 1980s the snow came down firmly and emphatically as if making some bold metereological statement. But then wonder of wonders it just kept falling and falling so heavily and persistently that it settled on the ground rather like some stubborn tramp who refuses to move on. It was the kind of snow that refused to go away when it was told to do so and remained exactly where it was for the best part of four months.

During one very cold 1980s winter the snow came down in thick clumps, furious, intense, insistent and almost anarchic. There was a savage intensity to the snow that had to be seen to be believed. Before you could blink there were thick piles of snow on the ground and I can still remember clomping and traipsing through it rather like one of those hardened explorers. All I needed was a good set of skis, a pair of goggles and warming boots. Maybe all I needed was a chalet, a muscular set of mountains, a slope and plenty of Schnapps to warm the stomach afterwards.

Seriously the winter of 1982 or circa 1982 had to be one of the hardest, coldest and most demanding winters that I can remember. The snow just kept dropping from on high with an almost biting tenacity. It was as if the last heavy snowfall that had accompanied my birth twenty years earlier was determined to make its presence felt again. It had a strange and powerful physicality about it, sweeping and cutting across my face and then fizzling out eventually when it thought it had enough.

But somehow snow reminds us of our childhood. It takes us back to that wondrous morning when we flung open our curtains, opened our mouths with astonishment and declared to the rest of the world that it was indeed snowing. Now where did that come from? We didn't care that it was freezing and you had to be ready for school.

 It was then that you realised that the cold was somehow irrelevant. It was snowing and this was your chance to go crazy in the playground with the snow. So you rapidly threw on your thick coat, ran out of your home, sprinted towards school and then launched your barrage of snowballs at your mates. How cool was that? You couldn't wait to get to school because this represented the perfect opportunity to let off steam.

I can remember those thick snowdrifts, those carpets of snow that seemed to have underground tunnels, subterranean caves where the kids of my age would just play and play. We spent hours and hours rolling together and moulding huge clumps of white snow, throwing the snow gleefully in the general direction of your friend before laughing deliriously as your friend toppled backwards into yet more snow. Cat Stevens once recalled the days of the old schoolyard when we used to laugh a lot. And we did.

And now it's almost lunch time here in London town and the snow does seemed to have stopped. What a disappointment. Just as we were getting used to it as well. Never mind perhaps it'll come back again when it feels the moment is an opportune one. We were given ample warning last night so there remains a strong possibility that it might come back towards the end of January. Or some time next week. But here we are it's Friday. it's not 5.00 and it's not Crackerjack. That belongs to the annals of TV history and besides perhaps it snowed heavily while Crackerjack was on. What a golden memory.

Anway I think it's time to dig out my boots, pull on the gloves and indulge in some good old fashioned snow tomfoolery. None of us could ever quite understood why that big old snowman had to be decorated with a carrot for a nose, twigs that symbolised its hair, two pebbles for eyes and a hat on its head. Maybe this was regulation uniform for snowmen across the world. Then we go on an improvised toboggan which looks like one of those tea trays in our kitchen.

 But we loved the snow even if it does melt eventually and turn to rather slippery, dangerous and precarious slush. Then it turns to ice and I for one approach the whole concept of walking with a certain amount of terror in my heart and deep foreboding. How to cross roads and tread on pavements. It's the most daunting challenge ever to face the human race. But, trembling quite unnecessarily, we tried to pretend that there was nothing to be afraid of because when you were a kid nothing fazed you or unsettled you. You were brave, intrepid and mentally resourceful. It's only ice after all and yet I was terrified, held hostage by the ice. Silly I know but true.

It's time to move on with the day without any of that romantic, soppy snow that most of us associate with Christmas, Santa Claus and Christmas cards. In the goodness of time it may still return when least expected. It does look very visually stunning and almost an idyllic wintry scene. The sun has come surging out of its temporary hibernation and although bitterly cold, it still looks pretty good out there.

 January is still weighing up its options and if all goes according to a child's plan we'll probably see the white stuff again shortly. It may snow decisively this time but then have a change of heart. Anyway I'm looking forward to a heart warming bowl of chicken soup. If it is snowing wherever you are then have a brilliant time folks. If you see Frosty the Snowman on your travels then send him my regards. Have a good one.