RECENT snow proves that our inner child is never far from the surface as we head for the Stratton slopes with a party of friends.

Okay, slopes could be over playing it a bit here and I would not like to be accused of making a mountain out of a molehill.

We are armed with an assortment of household items that resemble tea trays, plastic sheeting, lids from sandpits and one wooden sledge.

Grown ups take part in running snowball fights on the way often using very small children as human shields.

We tell ourselves that we are "doing this for the kids" but I can tell by looking at the adult faces that they would be more than happy to spend a few hours on a tea tray whizzing down a slope with or without their offspring.

Several hours later we return home to assess the damage. Everyone else seems to be bruise-free but I have managed to hit myself on the head and hurt my shoulder falling off a sledge that resembled a bedpan.

An added bonus of this snowy weather has been how great my allotment is looking.

I venture onto the plot every day just to stand and admire it. Snow is a good leveller and the fact that I can’t see anything through the thick white blanket makes me feel that my plot could resemble the best of the rest.

Only I know that I am behind on my digging and have yet to pull out last year’s failed crop of sprouts. No one else can see my untidy borders or ridicule my wonky lines of garlic.

So let the snow stay for a bit longer, if only to give me another crack at perfecting the art of sledging on a bedpan and to keep the illusion of my allotment prowess alive.