Almost nothing happened on my way in today. Indeed, everything that happened was due to my misjudgement. I decided to wear an old pair of boots, but got just a few feet down the driveway when the heel snapped off, so I returned indoors and threw on my usual shoes which are pretty sensible, except, having an open top are less suitable than boots for snow.
It wasn't until I got to work and saw someone in walking boots that I cursed myself for not thinking of doing that myself.
I'm currently sitting here in bare feet, and damp trouser hems, with my socks draped over my bin, hopefully to have dried out by hometime.
Since I bought my house in 1995, there have been few examples of the garden being snow-covered. On average fewer than one a year. And the Victoria Line was running a 'good service'.
In fact the only problem was that the pavement between home and the bus-stop was treacherous. But I survived.