I knew we’d get wind through winter on Skye, and I certainly knew we’d get rain, but I didn’t know that we’d get a thick dusting of snow that would lie all dry and powdery and welcoming. I loved our snow day. I rode my bike down hills on the croft, fearing nothing but a possible fall into the cold, cushioned by snow. I watched Steven attempt to shovel a track through the car park of Lean To coffee by hand, and only getting as far as the gate. I was reminded of winter in the Cairngorms, when I lived in my little caravan and I had to constantly brush thick snow off the roof, and off the awning so it didn’t collapse under the weight.

I like snow days.