Brrrrrrrrrrr… it’s snow time. Time to dust off your ful­ly sick­i­fied snow­board with its wild cus­tom graph­ics and com­put­er designed curves. Time to check that your radi­a­tor has more than just rusty H2O in it. Time for all the fel­las to prac­tic­ing writ­ing their names.

Like I real­ly know what I’m talk­ing about! I’ve lived in Can­ber­ra for about 13 years now, and I’ve been to the snow about twice. Isn’t that trag­ic. Here we are, just a cou­ple of easy hours dri­ve from a win­ter won­der­land, and I couldn’t even tell you what a snow chain looks like.

I used to work for a com­pa­ny in New­cas­tle, many years ago, where my boss­es (a hus­band and wife team) left at 4pm every Fri­day dur­ing snow sea­son to make the jour­ney to Thred­bo. Even dur­ing my wild and sin­gle years in Can­ber­ra, I still wasn’t drawn by the call of “Bill… ski bun­nies… BILLSKI BUNNIES!!!”.