Now, if any of you haven't been to Glenshee you may have heard it described as Scotland's foremost ski resort. If you have been, you will know that during its early days in the 1960's, it was a cold, desolate and windswept hell on earth with horizontal sleet, wet snow that I continually fell into and luke warm pies available at the cafe in exchange for a mortgage.
Off I went with my dad - walk, stumble and fall up a minor slope only to slide back down at a snails pace thanks to the depth of wet snow that had already filled my boots and soaked my gloves to within an inch of hypothermia.
If you are a parent, please note that knitted woollen gloves provide bugger all protection to a small child whilst "playing" in the snow.
Failing to appreciate the joy in snow activities I whinged long and hard enough for my dad to take me back to the car for some much needed warmth and shelter. On the way I managed to walk onto and then fell through a snow bridge over one of the many steams that flow below the snow and ended up knee deep in icy water just to add to my misery.
In an effort to generate some warmth, dad purchased some "hot" coffee at the cafe. I don't actually remember getting any, but I do remember dad sitting in the drivers seat of the car, taking one mouthful of coffee and after much complaining about its lack of taste, emptying the contents out of the window and onto the snow before driving off.
Little did he know that being a curious child I wondered what hot coffee would look like on cold snow and so had leaned forward and stuck my head out of the window just as dad wound it up and drove off. Being so trapped, it was impossible to scream or otherwise make much of a sound beyond that of a strangled groan, but thankfully that was enough to attract his attention and thus alleviate very cold ears on the way home. It also guaranteed no future sledging trips to the arctic of Scotland with it thereafter confined to Lochee Park.
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