As I write this, the country is once again going snow-crazy and once again - so far - Manchester has not been invited to play along. Obviously, the sensible part of me, the part that wears cardigans and chooses a car based on comfort rather than speed, knows that this is a very good thing, as snow brings chaos, causing accidents and delays and making pussy cats' feet cold and small birds hungry.
And yet. The other, sadly more dominant part of me - the part that drinks too much wine and buys too much sparkly nail varnish - is stamping its feet and shaking its fists and shouting "snow, god damn you" to a largely indifferent sky. For tonight, I want snow. It is Christmas in just one week, and more to the point, this weekend is Xmas WestFest, the festive sister to September's annual celebration of all that is good amongst the independent businesses on Burton Road in West Didsbury.
Quite frankly, I wish to wear my cute woolly Top Shop scarf and some kind of fetching hat, and stomp through the snow, pausing only to exchange pleasantries with friends and sample mince pies and mulled wine from beaming shopkeepers, many of whom will hopefully have pieces of decorative holly attached to their persons. As ever, check out the omniscient Didsbury Life (http://www.didsburylife.com) for latest news on the Festival; Helen is confident that there will be snow, and as she knows simply EVERYTHING, I'm off to find my wellies.