Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow... Because it just changes everything. One minute Oxford is, well...Oxford, and the next it’s something out of a fairy tale. And that’s no fanciful exaggeration.

Yesterday and Thursday, the snow not only transformed the geography of the city, but its mood as well...

Miraculously, on both days I actually woke to the sound of people laughing – at 6.45am. And you don’t often hear that on the Iffley Road (whatever time of day).

Indeed, rushing out the house on Thursday, the first thing that struck me was how cheerful everyone looked – even those still attempting to plod to work in suits. Plus, I couldn’t help but marvel that here in out-in-the-sticks-cosy-ole-Oxford, we were doing precisely what London, and Londoners, had universally failed to do; that is, keep our roads open, our buses running, and thanks to our council workmen, our pavements clear too.

Instead of confusion and excuses, we just shrugged and got on with it. Not that anybody seemed to begrudge the extra hardship; the city’s motorists were noticeably more courteous; bus drivers actually waited for those passengers who were struggling to reach their stops; and even the cyclists were for once acknowledging pelican crossings.

As for me, I lost 40 years. After all, how could anyone resist? Snow is instant gratification and harmless too (unless of course you get hit square on the face by a snowball).

Normally you have to pay hundreds – if not more – to travel to snowbound resorts to enjoy this most ultimate of makeovers, this meteorological Mabyelline. But this week it came complimentary.

Normally by 8.30am, the chances of getting a fellow pedestrian to smile at you is all but impossible (and you of course look like a dangerous idiot trying). But yesterday and Thursday, everyone it seemed lived on Sesame Street.

As I crunched my way toward The Plain, at least six people smiled (no, make that ‘grinned’) back, such was their delight at the turn in the weather. And people were furiously ‘snapping’ – cameras it seemed, were all but de rigeur for those making their way in to work.

The Botanic Garden, just over Magdalen Bridge, was peppered with these work-bound David Baileys. And no-one it seemed was in a rush. Auto-pilots were momentarily switched off as people seemed content to savour.

And I guess that was what I loved the most – that save for a few, miserable diehards, most people just wanted to ‘celebrate’ (and how often does anyone want to celebrate the weather?). In all, I reckon it took me two hours on both days to get into work, but boy was I on a high when I did finally walk through the doors. Ten cups of double espresso couldn’t have pumped me up any more.

So who needs anti-depressants and therapy when all we need is a good snowfall to untie all those knots.