Dazed and Confused: Tim Davey's column

I don't think I have ever felt so cold in ages as I had last week. Suddenly, from Siberia or somewhere, the iciest of icy blasts chilled me to the bone – and I'm talking about someone who has a reasonably ample covering of flesh (my wife would say an over-abundance).

But this cryogenic onslaught seemed to permeate any clothing you chucked on to protect yourself. The peculiar thing was that we seemed to go from a positively balmy spell of English springtime to this new Ice Age in the space of 24 hours. I had gone to watch football on the day previous and only needed to be quite lightly clad in outerwear. On days before that I had even popped out at lunchtime without a winter coat.

Then we went to spend a couple of nights in the deepest West Country and the temperatures collapsed. We were staying with friends in a converted chapel and, I confess, arriving in the dark, with a hint of snow swirling around could potentially have been even more chilling.

For, once you had located the accommodation (miss its entrance and you have to go miles before finding a safe turning space). You then lugged your overnight bag up through the graveyards.

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Now, as a kid, I used to get a tad spooked by such places at night, always cycling furiously past the local cemetery after watching Sunday night horror movies at our local cinema.

So I wasn't too sure how my rather mature non-cycling self would cope presented with a more pedestrian approach to passing the long gone lying either side of the footpath leading to the unusual holiday home's front door. I know I'm a big boy now and should be able to cope with such things but, truth to tell, it had been playing on my mind a bit en route to our destination.

And, actually, as it turned out, it wasn't a problem. I fair skipped up the steps to the entrance, sidestepping a slightly skewed headstone along the way, and didn't give the scenario a thought.

Come daylight and I realised there was a trampoline and a barbecue in the "garden" which both helped to assuage any feeling that this was a mournful place. Quite the opposite, as it turned out, with wonderful views out across the surrounding valleys.

Flicking through the visitors' book in front of a cosy log fire, I came across dozens of complimentary entries... including one for a stay which included October 31. Hallowe'en. Could there be a more scary place to spend that particular night? Somebody had. They loved it. I don't know whether I would. I'd probably be on my bike again, pedalling as fast my chubby little legs could carry me.