Welly interesting - not

There aren't too many things which single me out from the other Whites and probably the entire population of Yorkshire. But there is certainly one.

I don't own a pair of wellies.

This fact has become increasingly glaring in recent days as the snow has continued to fall and my feet have continued to get soaked.

I don't think I've had a pair of wellies since moving to Coleraine from the nearby village of Macosquin at the age of 10. There's wasn't really a huge need for them when I lived in "the town," and later flits to Newcastle, Belfast and London didn't change matters as they have loads of tarmac and pavements in all three.

But our move to Yorkshire threatened to alter the situation irrevocably. Because Yorkshire folk love to go on long, endless and, in my view, pointless walks - apparently for "leisure" purposes. Meanwhile, I don't.

Obvious point, but why did God invent cars, buses, trains and even bicycles if he wanted us to walk to places?

Answer - he didn't. He invented all of these wonderful forms of transport precisely to avoid us having to walk. End of.

I have been forced to go for "walks" on several occasions over the last six years and each time I've complained bitterly and each time I've been dressed "inappropriately" (according to the locals) because I haven't been wearing wellies.

But, according to my thought processes, if I bought wellies then I'd be expected to go for more walks and that is just not going to happen. As such, the price of a few ruined pairs of trainers has been and remains a price very well worth paying.

Like most other areas across the country, the snow came to Yorkshire in December and looks set to stay for a long while yet.

And its arrival has allowed Yorkshire folk to get their beloved wellies out. From factory and shop workers, to men in suits, to women in posh dresses - they've all been traipsing around in their wellies and loving every minute of the experience.

Vanessa has certainly taken great pride in heaving on her rubber booties for the journey into the metropolis, and gloating to me that I look silly setting off to work in normal shoes.

And I've also been getting it from work colleagues.

"Where's tha's wellies lad?" they ask, smugly.

"Do you want me to take tha's off thee and shove them up tha's arse?" has been my typical response.

I could go on but I won't.

I'm not getting wellies.