Frost

For the last three mornings, caring little for the environmental impact, I have gone out to my car and started it so that the windscreens are clear and the vehicle cosy and warm - while I step back inside for a cup of tea and a slice of toast. It can be damned dangerous setting out on frosty mornings as the windscreens refreeze and you can't see a thing.

On Wednesday morning I had to be at work early because I had a key role to play in the whole day interview process for an AST (Advanced Skills Teacher) in Language Development. So there I was approaching the fourth set of traffic lights on Penistone Road when I saw an ambulance zooming towards me - lights flashing, sirens wailing. Although my light went green, I slowed to a halt to let the ambulance through and then - yeah - you guessed it - thud/crunch - some pillock drove into me from behind! We advanced to the bus lay-by just ahead and exchanged details. Fortunately, both cars remained operable and he sort of admitted his fault. Years back I might have raged at the guy but on Wednesday I found myself saying, "Oh it's just one of those things mate".

At the interviews, one of the candidates said she just loved English but seemed to have little idea what an AST might do. The other floundered when I quizzed her about the key things she thought she had achieved in her current literacy co-ordinator's role. In the end, we didn't appoint anyone but I had lost three non-contact periods and a rear bumper. Such is life.

I love the way the frost sparkles on our decking and the way it so delicately coats every blade of grass, every privet leaf. The thermometer reads minus three and I think of all those bugs and slugs and creepy crawlies surrendering to nature's cleansing power.

Christmas cards drop on our mat and we busy ourselves with present-buying expeditions and card writing duty. For me it has always been a happy time of year - at home with the family, mince pies and brussel sprouts, foil wrapping paper, a big fat turkey thawing, shelling chestnuts, sleeping till ten and magical frost patterns appearing opaquely in the corners of our windows.