Ahh the joys of half-term. As we trudged through the torrential rain today in a bid to get some fresh air, I reprimanded myself once again for dismissing out of hand the idea of a winter sports holiday. You see my hubby and I have been debating a return to the slopes with the children. I haven’t skied since the year before my daughter was born (she is now 6). And although Scott has made the occasional trip to the Alps since, we have been waiting to go as a family, until the kids are both old enough to enjoy it.

My little boy is now just 3, which is why, after much debate, we reluctantly decided to wait until next year. Although had you asked me at around 4.00pm this afternoon, as the beneficial effects of the hot chocolate had worn off and it had started to rain heavily for the umpteenth time, I would have said that decision was a mistake. Fortunately we have the Winter Olympics currently as some consolation. One of the most unfortunate stories I have noticed in the first week involved the French skier Marion Rolland, whose Olympic Slalom dreams lasted precisely 3 seconds into her run, before she took a nasty tumble. It is hilariously awful to watch. You literally don’t know whether to laugh or cry for her.

And then there is the legend that is Shaun White. Now I have never tried snowboarding, simply because I find ski-ing tough enough. But I know lots of people love it. In fact, I’ve been trying to track down UK snowboarding participation figures and they are tricky to find. But if you are vaguely interested in having a go, take a look at what Shaun White does with his board and you might just become hooked.

Honestly this guy, who is now Olympic snowboard half pipe champion again, is something else. As you know I love a lookey-likey and he looks a little like a young, ginger, Robin Gibb. But watching him for the first time, I was genuinely dumbstruck by his ability. Hurtling down a run is one thing. Doing what he does is something else. He is officially a lunatic. But a brilliant one. And it makes me yearn for the smell of the Apline slopes and the cries of ‘watch out’..... ahh yes. Happy days. I almost fancy a gluhwein now.....