One of my earliest memories involves snow.  I was about 3.  It was the Feast of St. Blaise and I was walking home through crunching snow to Mass Road; hand in hand with my mother, Peggy.  We were coming from the Franciscan Friary having just had our throats blessed.  Just past The Grotto, we met our lovely neighbour, Biddy Sheehan, and she asked with concern why I was whimpering.  Peggy told her I was afraid of the snow.  I remember thinking “No, I’m NOT afraid of it, I JUST DON’T LIKE IT!”  Looking back, I think what I really didn’t like was the way it went crunch and gave way under my feet when stood upon.  Clearly, I was a child who needed to know I was standing on solid ground😊.
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Fast forward about 25 years later when my friend, Trish, suggested I go with her on a skiing trip to Pamporovo, Bulgaria.  A large group were travelling to Bulgaria from Trish’s adopted home of