IT’S official. Every one of us in Oxfordshire is a hero! We all deserve a medal. And a day off! In fact forget the medal, I’m sure even though we’re only three days into the working year, we’d all much rather prefer a day off than a lump of metal on a ribbon.

So why are we heroes?

Well, to those of you from future generations reading this column in about the year 2080, you will know it is because we’re surviving ‘the big freeze’.

We’ve had to endure such chilly temperatures as the minus 11 recorded at Oxford Airport this week.

I mean, it’s a credit that most of us have managed to get out of our heated homes, walk to our heated cars, and spend the day in our heated workplaces!

I even heard that many supermarkets have run short of kitty litter as we use it to grit our paths.

Does Mother Nature have no compassion? How dare she expect us to battle the elements then come home only to find we have to clear away Fluffy’s small steaming parcel of fun left on the new rug.

Okay; perhaps I’ve gone a little over the top with the facetiousness. But I’ve done some serious research on this. Well, a few hours at least.

Let me tell you about the people of a small town called Oymyakon in Northern Siberia.

Oymyakon is officially known as the coldest permanently inhabited place in the world.

It’s been known to hit minus 70 degrees Celsius.

There your sneeze freezes before it hits the ground and if you close your eyes for too long your eyelids can stick together.

Birds have even been known to freeze to death in mid flight. And yes, just like ours, their schools do close when the temperature is deemed too low. This happens at a rather chilly minus 52 Celsius. Because, according to a teacher, it’s fine for the kids to play outside as long as it doesn’t get any lower than minus 40. Apparently that’s when things get a bit too cold to have fun.

‘But these people are used to it!’ I hear you say. ‘They’re not like us, they wouldn’t know a warm day if it hit them!’ Well, sorry to report that Oymyakon also enjoys average temperatures in July of around 22 Celsius, and reaches over 30 on a nice summer’s day. So what’s the difference between us and them?

As far as I can see it, it’s because they just get on with life because they have to. It’s three days drive to the nearest town, and they all seem to wear large woolly hats. At least I think they’re hats, they may be small furry animals, it’s too hard to tell.

So, next time you need to face the outside world, put on a second pair of socks, put Fluffy on your head, and go for a walk.

Even if it doesn’t make you feel better, at least you won’t arrive home to any unexpected steaming presents.