When it gets really cold you have to seek reassurance, take solace, receive comfort from anywhere you can get it.
As the most severe polar blast this land has seen for a many a year caused snow to fall on the beaches of Wellington and the green face of our Mount
Erin turned white, one needed to be told "it's not that bad".
My stock answer to gloved people cowering and turning their collars to the freezing wind and bemoaning the terrible cold is the very sensible "hey, it's winter, remember?"
You get cold snaps, and such things are amplified after you've enjoyed a relatively serene winter where even in the heart of July there were temperatures of 16C and 17C emerging.
So when the perfect storm is concocted through rare ingredients of merging fronts which just happen to occur in a certain place at a certain time, then yes, you do tend to feel it.
Snow in itself, at sea levels, is not unusual when the right ingredients are blended together, but it is rare.
This is where the reassurance factor comes into it.
It is rare and unlikely to happen again this year with such severity.
And take a look at the calender.
It is August 16 ... there are only 15 more official days of winter left.
In 16 days it will be spring.
Go for a drive and enjoy the sight of trees already in full blossom ... I spotted six or seven last Saturday.
Okay, that's enough of the reassurance ... now it's time to take solace.
So it was 8C yesterday and barely 9C today.
Those readings, and the howls of chilled frustration from the populace would be met with a growling "tish tosh!" from the likes of the marvellous polar explorer Ernest Shackleton.
"Dashed tropical," he would add.
For back in 1909 when he and his hardy (now there's an understatement) team of polar castaways were in Antarctica he wrote in his diary - "a blinding, shrieking blizzard all day with the temperature ranging from -60 to -70."
Just a spot of meteorological perspective there.
And consider that the coldest temperature recorded in the great white southern continent was -89.2C on July 21, 1983.
And the highest temperature recorded at the South Pole? A relatively simmering -14C.
The average summer temperature across Antarctica is about -2C.
So while it's not exactly barbecue weather out there right now it is the sort of weather Mr Shackleton and the lads would have raised a glass of whisky to ... the sort of weather that would prompt a chap to take his gloves off.
It's all relative, you see.
Now it is time to take comfort.
Yep, it's barely 9C today and there are foul southerlies forecast to continue for the next couple of days. But the latest Metservice long-range forecast shows this naughty little polar zephyr is set to be replaced by increasing sunshine and fading winds ... and that by Tuesday next week the Bay cities will be under sunny skies, little or no wind, and a rising temperature of 14C to 15C.
Also, next Tuesday signals that there will be only eight official days of winter left. By then, of course, there will be more blossom. Less firewood, but more blossom.
Let's go back to taking solace (with a bit of comfort thrown in).
As I write this (on Monday early arvo) there is sunshine coming through the window and the ground is dry. Over in Johannesburg it is 12C and raining. That is bad.
In Hobart and Buenos Aires it is barely 14C and the rain is falling there also. That is dreadful.
In Mecca it is 44C. Could you live with that heat day after sapping day?
Of course not ... you'd end up pleading for a polar blast like a child pleads for chocolate at the check-out.
When it's too hot you simply get to the point where you can't get cool. But when it's cold you can put more clothing on and find a blanket.
This cold snap with its freezing rain and snow and foul skies will have blighted us for six days.
In parts of the US and Europe such weather systems hang around for six weeks.
This is a mere blip upon our fair landscape and we should embrace it for its rare colour and challenges.
I left a six-pack of beer in the car overnight by mistake, yet its temperature is perfect.
Try that in Mecca.
Roger Moroney is an award-winning journalist for Hawke's Bay Today and observer of the slightly off-centre.
