Although this column was effectively a spin-off of my long-winded witterings (or 'posts' as we call them) on a Doctor Who message board, and indeed although this website is itself named after one of the later, and better, and more Liverpudlian, Doctor Who monsters, I like to think that this column isn't specifically Doctor Who based. By which I mean that if any passing stranger were to read it I hope that he or she, or it (if it were, say, a small furry creature from Alpha Centauri - sorry, the Douglas Adams thing is still kicking in) would not be put off or left totally confused by annoying references to such fan-based conceits as Holmesian double acts, Eye Patch anecdotes or Hawaiian Shirts.

However, whether the above noble aspiration is true or not, I'm afraid it's going to be temporarily abandoned, as I'm going to start this column with a quote from Doctor Who. Actually it's not quite the first time I've pulled off this trick - one of the proudest moments during my English Literature A-Level course (aside from rave reviews for my Irish accent during a play-reading of, well, of an Irish play) was when I legitimately worked in a quote from Robert Holmes at the top of an essay about Victorian Values.

But I digress. (Considering that this column is supposed to be about the current wintery weather, and so far I'm on paragraph three with not a mention, I clearly sooooo digress.) Anyway, I am now going to start this column (or more accurately, continue this column) with a quote from Doctor Who, and apologies to any men, women or small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri who are put off as a result.

By no stretch of the imagination am I going to try and make the case for Doctor Who novels being degree-type literature deserving of study and debate (although having said that, if somebody can tell me what the BBC Doctor Who novel "The Blue Angel" is about, I would be eternally grateful) but nevertheless I would claim the above quotation as an absolutely lovely bit of writing, and in fact it took a great effort of conscience on my part to admit that it was a quote and not just bung it up at the top of this column and claim it as my own. The quote in fact comes from the Doctor Who book "Father Time" written by Lance Parkin, one of the more prolific and, to be honest, better of the Doctor Who authors - and whose name also pops up in the credits of "Emmerdale". No, he isn't Jack Sugden (nor as far as I know is he Kim Tate, if she's still in it) but he is, or at least was, involved with the story lining I believe.

In general I like the snow, I love the Winter, and there's nothing better than a covering of frost. However, I was inescapably reminded of the above quotation this morning, while spending half an hour scraping about three layers of permafrost from my lovely Vauxhall Cavalier. To maintain the Doctor Who anorak persona a little longer, I didn't after all that scraping uncover a ravaging alien seed pod (from "The Seeds of Doom", set in Antarctica but filmed at the BBC) or an Ice Warrior (from "The Ice Warriors", set in the Ice Age of 4000 AD but filmed at the BBC), or even a Key Guardian (from "The Keys of Marinus", set on a distant alien world and filmed by the look of it in somebody's front room, but I am reliably informed filmed at the BBC).

There are of course many ways of defrosting one's car. My daughter scoffs whenever I use the word 'defrosting' and has more than once claimed that, "it doesn't make any sense" which she then clarifies by saying that the word should be 'unfrosting'. To our shame, my wife and I pursued this argument with her this evening, and at one point my daughter actually asked me whether 'defrosting' meant 'frosting'. There are some questions you just can't answer are there? I was reminded of Dr Nick Riviera (Hi Doctor Nick!) from "The Simpsons" when he once observed (just after his practice exploded): "Inflammable means flammable? What a country!"

There are of course many methods of defrosting one's car. (Hm, deja vu...) The most practical is to put the car in the garage away from all that nasty ice. Not having a garage, however, rules that one out for a start. Another popular method seems to be the old 'newspaper over the window' trick. I can't honestly say I've found this to be entirely successful, the result usually being that instead of ice frozen to the windscreen you have a newspaper frozen to it - although I suppose it does at least give you something to read while you're waiting for the big thaw.

Another popular method is to turn on the engine, switch on the heaters, and just wait for the car to warm up and thus defrost naturally. If I wake up of a morning and can hear somebody's car engine throbbing outside, I know that it's a frosty morning without even looking out the window. I don't dispute that this is an entirely practical and effective method of defrosting a car, but I'm afraid I just don't hold with it! If there's one thing that annoys me (and in fact there are several, at least, but the following is one of them) it's paying good money for petrol which is then only used up while the car is sat there thawing itself out. For precisely the same reason I inwardly, and at times outwardly, fume whenever I'm waiting at the traffic lights.

So I am very much a 'hot water and scrape' sort of man when it comes to defrosting our car. Not that it is of any interest to anyone I'm sure, but I in fact favour a little scraper we got free with our new fridge/freezer a few years ago, and which is just right for having a good go at any layers of ice on the windscreen.

Where am I going with this then? Well nowhere really - I seem to be slipping and sliding all over the place don't I. But the topic was, at least in theory, snow and ice and the generally wintry weather of the past few days. Other than providing a useful public service, in that they give us Brit's something just a little unusual to mention in our constant talks about the weather, what are snow and ice good for? Cold weather is only ever mentioned on the news and the weather forecast in the contest of being something B-A-D. As adults it is expected that when freezing Winter weather is announced we will all feel sad and miserable about it, perhaps even a little doom-laden if we're that way inclined. Indeed, in some cases it seems to bring on a state of panic - when I went to our local supermarket this evening the bread aisle was absolutely empty. Doubtless some old soul down the road has a larder full of the stuff now, just in case she's snowed in 'till Summer.

Given, then, that the media like to portray cold weather as man's mortal enemy, I feel a little wary when I confess that I actually quite like it, still, at my age. On a rational level of course I know that it makes "driving conditions treacherous" (as they say on the news), and it can potentially be fatal to anyone without adequate heating, and it sometimes leads to remote communities being entirely cut off, and pipes can burst... so I know all the reasons why as a clean-living, proper-thinking member of society I shouldn't like it. But the trouble is, I still do. Which means that I enjoy it, but at the same time I feel slightly guilty about the fact. To once again go all Adamsy (I really must seek therapy for this before another week is out) "I enjoy the sight of snow falling, but then I agonize about it afterwards to my girlfriend."

There are many things that have dropped away or faded as I've got older, in terms of enthusiasm and appreciation and affection. But the sight of frost and snow isn't one of them - even when they are firmly attached to a slightly rusty old Vauxhall Cavalier, they still conjure up a sense of wonder. There is something almost entrancing about walking out on a cold morning, with the ground crunching underfoot, the sky that wonderfully muted but crystal clear orange and purple. Or in the evening, when the contours of the landscape glisten in the moonlight. Even now I like to see my breath coming out as smoke in front of me - what could be more wondrous than that?

To my daughter of course snow means snowballs and snowmen, although ironically it probably won't be more than once in a blue moon that we get enough of a fall for that. To me and my wife it means rather more down-to-earth things such as defrosting the car (by whichever method), making sure our littl'un wraps up warm, ensuring there's enough coal to keep the home fires burning (I have, in my time, sack-trucked a bag home on foot, but that's another story). But despite the rather dull practicalities that it brings with it, I still get a thrill when the snow falls. On the basis of my much-lauded quotation above, I can only assume that means I'm not quite grown up yet. I sincerely hope that day doesn't come soon.

I would love to write more but my "aching joints and throbbing sinuses and cold hands and feet" are playing up. And besides, I think it's time I went and had a sandwich or two for supper. My wife's just informed me that we have thirty loaves each to get through...

31st January 2004