WE knew before we looked out of the window on Wednesday morning that it had carried on snowing all night. Something about the quality of the light and the sound of silence.

It was a perfect snowy day. Thick white snow deep and crisp underfoot, heavy and glistening on the trees, blue sky and shining sun. After the blizzards of the night, it now looked like something from a Christmas card.

There didn't seem much hope of the school bus getting through but, being cruel, we got Smaller Son out of bed just the same. He was in the shower when one of his friends phoned. "School's shut." The boy's face lit up and he leapt gleefully back into bed to watch wrestling videos.

Later, I slithered slowly (very slowly) out up the hill and down the road to Tesco. The store was full of kids - nine, ten, eleven-year-olds as well as tinies. What were they doing there? Okay schools were shut but they should have been out sledging or throwing snowballs or building snowmen. It was perfect snowman snow - just the right sort of stickiness. As I swept six inches off the roof of the car, I was quite tempted myself.

It was the sort of snowy day that children brought up in tropical climes dream about. And instead of being out there enjoying it, these poor youngsters were whining their way up and down the supermarket aisles being shouted at by their mothers.

The odd thing was that all the way back I saw virtually no children out in the snow. Don't children like snow any more? Are they afraid of getting wet? Have they no wellies, no scarves, no mittens? Can't they cope with a bit of snowball down the back of the neck? Could they all be in bed watching wrestling videos?

We used to have a few sledges in the back of the garage, stacked somewhere with the surf board. Last winter's snow had been wet messy stuff, definitely the wrong sort of snow so they hadn't been used. I wondered idly what had happened to them.

When I got home, I found out. Smaller Son had unearthed them. He and his friends were off down the sledging field. These are young men, you understand, young men who have discovered the joys of pubs and clubs and goodness knows what other grown-up delights.

But still know a good sledging day when they see it. And the bonus of an unexpected day off school in which to enjoy it.

All over the house drawers were flung open as the boy had hunted out gloves, hat, thick woolly socks.

They were out for hours. He came back glowing and shivering and dived straight into the shower. Later he left a pile of clothes on the floor by the washing machine. The woolly socks, two jumpers, two pairs of jogging bottoms, sat in a soggy little heap, surrounded by trickles of mud and little pools of melted snow.

And on a perfect snowy day that's exactly how it should be.