In truth we're lucky in that we have had very little snow, maybe one inch if you were to be generous with your measurements. The ground is like concrete, the gravel in the side garden has frozen together and for the entire day the temperature has remained stubbornly around the minus three degrees mark.
Then the wind began to rise and although there were snow flurries the flakes were whipped away on the wind to probably end up in the next county instead of staying in West Norfolk, and that works for me.
The drains are steadily freezing over, particularly the smaller drains that I prefer to fish, so that is going to save me from the amazed expression and judgemental response of 'you're going out in this? You must be mad'. There's no answer to that really but someone has to do it, possibly just to prove that they are mad.
Meanwhile I can spend my time cutting and printing and fill up any spare time by counting how many icicles there are on the summer house.
As I said, someone has to do it. Maybe you can play them like a xylophone.
Tuned icicles, very Milt Jackson. Brilliant.