One day, shortly before Christmas, Durham found itself covered in a blanket of snow. It came billowing down all morning and afternoon, transforming the town into a Dickensian novel. I found it heart-lightening to don warm boots and a raincoat and walk through the town taking snaps. There's nothing quite as nice as sitting in your bedroom with a cup of tea warming your hands, watching thick, powdery puffs of snow come falling down.
By evening it had been washed away by rain, as if it had never existed.