So chilblain weather is officially back. I’ve been busy rubbing Sudocrem into my poor feet – or, as you lot call it, sudocream.

Ironic really because the correct pronunciation sounds exactly how a West Cumbrian would pronounce cream, yet we still insist on pronouncing it in the Queen’s tongue. Bizarre.

The good news is that regular lawn mowing has stopped. Amen, brother! The bad news is that I still, for the fourth year in a row, haven’t managed to purchase any de-icer and I’m musing over which of my CD boxes I’m going to have to sacrifice in the name of road safety.

Why the lads at Autoglass haven’t paid me a visit yet to deal with a multitude of scratches I do not know.

In preparation for the Arctic weather I decided to do a bit of shopping on Sunday and stock up on all the necessities.

You know, get some de-icer, heat retaining socks and plenty of beef jerky and Lucozade just in case I get snowed in.

I headed outside with my Dolly Parton CD looking like a budget version Nanook of the north in three pairs of tights and my pink, faux-fur coat I got for a bargain £30 at TK Maxx.

Instead of a spear, I was tightly grasping my son’s Minecraft sword and utilising it as a walking stick for added support on the ice. I slowly teetered towards Colin, his keys ready.

Just then I caught a glimpse of Dolly. Her sweet, heavily modified, plastic face shot me a smile and I was filled with guilt. True, her body would no doubt be able to float above all the ice and water that was soon to come its way, but my mind was made up.

“I can’t do it to you, Dolly,” I blubbered. “I don’t want to burst into tears every time I hear Islands in the Stream. ”

Dolly had received a royal pardon and was thus housed in the safety of my Schnauzer print shopping bag.

I set off walking, oblivious to the fact that 90 per cent of my journey was downhill.

I managed to get off my road easily enough, but then I turned a corner and was met with the mighty Honister Drive.

I should have just gone home and waited for the car to thaw but I was desperate for Sudocrem.

My toes looked like purple grapes that were sporting perfectly polished nails. If I wanted to wear open-toed heels again then I had to do this.

I started down the hill in the style of a crab-walking sideways with my arms splayed out, waving my Minecraft sword.

Right away I noticed an older gentlemen watching the free clown show.

He had obviously bought some de-icer and was about to set off on his less eventful journey.

As I approached him I could see a look of confusion and worry etched on his face. He was obviously concerned, though not enough to offer assistance.

I felt under so much pressure I accidentally whacked his car with my sword.

Chaos ensued and soon I was standing there, apologising profusely and trying to prove my sword wasn’t en route to end a life.

By the time I got to the shop, the Sudocrem was out of stock and I could no longer feel my feet.

Let’s just say Dolly bore the brunt of my frustration and is beyond help.

Even Sudocream can’t save the last dance for her now.