Winter flights

Since I'm in the UK I might as well talk about the weather.
As you all probably know - it snowed. It snowed a lot, and then it snowed some more. The sight of London covered under a white blanket is absolutely delightful, but that of airports is rather dreadful.
I really don't like flying in winter. Whenever I go back home for Christmas there is always the possibility that I will have an airport Christmas. Last year was pretty close: during my stopover in Amsterdam, on my way from Seoul to Warsaw, so much snow started falling, that it looked as if the god's were having a pillow fight up in the skies and all their bed-clothing was just being torn apart.
While I was waiting for my connection volunteers and airport staff were arranging rows of army beds. A woman sitting next to me was repeating like a mantra: "I tell you, I tell you, we won't take off." I was so tired after the previous 11-hours flight that everything seemed very far away, unreal, like someone else's dream. Nevertheless, after a long wait, we finally boarded, got de-iced, and took off.
Once I got home, where everything smelled like cookies and bigos [a traditional polish cabbage dish, which my father does every Christmas], and I sat with my parents in our winter-garden, I could finally marvel at the beauty of this white, silent cover that spread over the world.