I don't recall, back when I was a lad growing up on the Isle of Bute, there being very much snow at all. During geography class one day the reason for this was explained to us. The geography teacher, whose nickname was Teddy Biff (and whose actual name I forget), and whose house some of my friends almost set on fire once when they put alight some dead leaves and old fishing nets in the woods behind his home, and for which I--despite not being there at the time of the fire-setting--was somehow implicated by the local newspaper. Anyway, I digress. Teddy Biff pulled out a big map of the world and promptly instructed us to draw an imaginary line from east to west, parallel with the equator, passing right through the centre of our small island. This we collectively did, and were surprised to find that we were closer to the North Pole than Moscow in the then Soviet Union, and Labrador in Canada. These are both places that, in our minds, were much, much colder than Bute, and with much more snow. If the truth be told, we knew very little at all about Labrador, although we pictured it blanketed by deep snow and ice and populated by Inuits, seals and polar bears. Moscow we thought we knew from all the Cold War thrillers that we eagerly consumed at that time. As far as we knew, Moscow was permanently cold and full of tall goose-stepping soldiers wearing fur hats with red stars on them and big coats and who only ever said 'Comrade'. Why, then, do we not get much snow, and why are there palm trees growing on the Esplanade?, we all asked. The answer, he said, is the North Atlantic Drift - or Gulf Stream, which brings warm water from the Gulf of Mexico all the way across the North Atlantic and down the west coast of Scotland. That is why we have a mild and temperate climate that allows for the growing of palm trees. If that were to suddenly turn off - as some scientists believe may happen with global warming - then Scotland would get an awful lot colder - which is ironic, really. Anyway, I remember my dad coming home one day with a new record player. It was a beautiful thing made of highly polished walnut and made in the USSR. To go with his new toy, he also brought home with him that day a record by a Scottish comedian called Matt McGinn. Interspersed with the jokes that were meant for older ears than mine, he sang the odd little ditty, one of which has remained with me to this day. It goes something like this: When there is a snowfall / Ah'm gaunnie make a snowball / Ah'm gaunnie make a snowman, too / Christmas bells are ringing / Soon we will be singing / E-I-E-I-E-I-E-I-O.