“I am not going out clearing snow again with a teaspoon,” says my wife.

She is exaggerating of course, but not by much. We have never cleared snow with a teaspoon. But neither have we ever had one of those big snow-shovels that my wife has been coveting for the past few winters. Whenever I get round to thinking about buying one, it’s usually June or July and the moment has passed.

Our street seems particularly prone to snow problems, being on a steepish incline. But thankfully we have something approaching a snow SWAT team, in the shape of our neighbours Geoff, Trevor and Simon.

I presume their houses are all wired up to some early-warning snow intranet, of the sort that American intelligence might employ inside that NORAD mountain base, because they are always prepared and make their assault together like a well-oiled machine.

They seem to relish nothing more than waking up to find the street underneath five inches of snow, and before first light you’ll find them, swaddled in scarves, hats and proper gloves, making a three-pronged attack on the weather.

They deploy their big snow-shovels, pile up excess snow in the gutters, scatter grit and rock-salt to make safe tracks along the ice. These guys are professionals – you don’t want to get in their way when they’re clearing snow.

To show willing, in winters past, we’ve tried to help out with the snow-clearing exercise. But the aforementioned lack of suitable tools means my contribution has always been somewhat lacking. Last year, for example, I could be found rather helplessly trying to join in using a bright red child’s beach spade.

Yes, you read that right. A beach spade. So while it isn’t the actual teaspoon of my wife’s cutting remark, it wasn’t too far off in the sense that it was about as much use as one.

That’s why this year we were determined to be more organised, and have actually acquired a snow-shovel. It is a thing of beauty – black plastic with a metal leading edge, a sturdy wooden shaft and a strong handle. There are also two screws stuck into a bit of plastic at the handle. I’ve no idea what they’re for but they make the shovel look all industrial and useful.

We’ve also bought two bags of rock salt, a pair of sledges, and I have even acquired the first set of wellies I have owned since circa 1980, when there was a brief fad among my mates for wearing wellies while simultaneously playing football and train-spotting in the summer holidays of that year. No, don’t ask.

I know, like the A-Team of snow, Geoff, Trevor and Simon will be watching, waiting, forever on the alert for the first flakes to fall, then bang! They’re out there, a ninja taskforce, making the street safe for right-minded people.

But for the first time, I feel ready to join them. Keep watching the skies.