becoming impossible to just stand there with the freezing air on my face and my woolly hat becoming wetter and wetter as the snow got heavier. There were mutterings about the bus delay. I noticed that I could no longer see the clear line between the sidewalk and the road. The snow got heavier. My feet got colder. My hands started to ache. Two women had a quick discussion and then turned back up the hill of Livingston Avenue. They had obviously decided they had had enough. Or the bus wasn't coming. Or both. I felt a prickling of ice around my nose and cheeks. My feet began to get numb. I found it harder to walk. I could barely make out my fellow travellers now. I suddenly realised that, if I stayed here any longer, I would be too numb to trek back uphill. I peered through the whiteout. No sign of any traffic on the carriageway. I made the decision. An exhausting twenty minutes later, I knocked on the door. Sonja's smiling, astonished then horrified face welcomed me.