This year we went to the sawmills near St Johns, as I have been asking to go there for ages, and I think my parents were getting fed up of my constant childlike nagging.
Therefore, when we were on the way, I was very excited.
I also found that there was fresh snow on the ground. Endless fresh snow.
With no dents or footprints in it.
This *had* to be rectified.
He was cold and he was wet and I had filled his wellies with snow.
The next load of snow that flew his way was the catalyst. With an Oscar-winning performance, he keeled over. It was like something out of a war movie. He started to crawl away, every so often stopping to look up at me and our parents to make sure that we were indeed witnessing his demise.
I got bored so I went to kick some snow off a bridge.
And I won.
Because I'm a winner.
I rolled onto my side, so he moved round to that side and continued.
Eventually, I struggled to my feet.