Snow. I used to love it. In fact I still do, but despite its brilliant-white colour I have a dark relationship with it.

This past weekend I enjoyed watching the snow fall and as a keen photographer I was dying to get out and capture the beauty of the city powdered in icing sugar.

But it was simply impossible; in fact I couldn’t even leave the house. The thing about the ol’ wheels is that they take issue with snow – I mean, imagine a snow plough without a shovel...

Indeed, just a few metres into a journey to pick up the Sunday paper and my feet were looking like a snow drift. It really is like trying to work your way across the Arctic. Or Port Meadow after a blizzard.

So somewhat deflated by my ill-fated adventure, I decided to spin round and head back the five metres or so to my front door; and spin I did. On the spot. I kept pushing and pushing, but my wheels kept on turning like the wheelchair equivalent of a car tyre spinning in wet mud.

Actually, it got so bad, I began to get frightened. After all, here I was feeling and looking like an idiot in the freezing cold, it’s 9am on a Sunday morning – not exactly rush-hour. Which meant I had no choice but to sit and wait for someone to pass by and rescue me.

Luckily, a mere five minutes later (in sub-zero temperatures) a kind older lady, herself struggling through the snow, shouted over the garden wall: “Do you need help?”

With a red face and my head hung, I conceded I did.

It was mortifying to think I got myself in this situation in the first place, but now here I was finding myself dependent on an elderly stranger to pull me out.

Together we battled the mound of snow at my feet and the slippery path to the safety of my front door; but with my hands freezing and my pride wounded, I settled into a long, lonely day trapped in my own home.

Coincidently, snow has played a HUGE role in my life; yup, I was paralysed as a result of a freak sledging accident.

I’ll spare you the details but I’m sure you’ll understand when I say today, watching snow fall triggers a sadness in me. Making snowmen, having snowball fights with my family and taking stunning walks in the winter wonderland have become a thing of the past.

Snow has stolen my mobility via an accident and cruelly I’m reminded of this fact again every time its snows.

So once again I find myself thanking the public – and especially the woman who saved me.

Please consider your neighbours and relatives for whom snow is not a joy but a fearful and isolating event.

And perhaps offer to go to the shop or clear their paths and not let snow be a barrier to the outside world for the elderly and disabled.