Snow

1pm - I set off for London from Oxford, having arranged to meet my flat-hunting parents and sister later that evening. It's a cold day, but the sky is clear.

2.10pm - I arrive in Central London. The sky is clear and the streets are dry. There was no snow in the areas of Buckinghamshire that the coach drove through, but there are delays on the north-western extremities of the Metropolitan line.

5pm - My parents and sister arrive at the British Library to meet me. It's darker, but still dry.

6pm - We leave the British Library. There are two inches of snow on the ground.

8.40pm - I leave Victoria Coach Station. It has taken the driver of the coach over three hours to get to London from Oxford.

12.10am - I arrive at Thornhill Park and Ride on the edges of Oxford, about two hours behind schedule.

12.40am - I leave Thornhill Park and Ride, satisfied that the car has thawed sufficiently; the front windscreen is finally clear and the back serviceable.

1.05am - I reach Woodstock. I slow to a crawl down Upper Brook Hill, which is just as well as the street is an incline of sheet ice, and I almost go over the edge of the road, down a short but steep bank, and onto someone's car roof. I stop the car and start it again, regaining control, and make my way to my flat. There is a deer in someone's front garden, but it isn't greatly bothered.

Why was the M40 not gritted? Why was the only snow plough on the road a small one that could barely clear a carriageway?

Answer: For this is England, we rarely have snow of any kind in the south-east, and otherwise we would be accused of wasteful over-provision.