The snow of 1987 has been followed by nothing but disappointment

The 1987 snow ruined me. Because it raised expectations that there would be similar snow every year. But most snows since then have been, quite frankly, crap, writes Colm O’Regan

We’ll always have 1987. Probably the best snow of all. I was nine — an age optimally suited to snow. I had shaken off the twice-daily colds of earlier years. I was a bit hardier, in peak physical condition for the enjoyment of snow.

It started on a Friday afternoon. We were like New York 80s yuppies: A little bit of white powder for the weekend. But soon it was full-on Scarface. For the whole of the next week, school was closed.