ONE week has passed, but I have still not calmed down. How did a couple of inches of snow bring the country's capital city to a grinding halt - and become a burning Parliamentary issue?

People in the North must not know whether to laugh or cry. I was brought-up a Yorkshireman and for the first 26 years of my life snow was a familiar sight.

A few times every winter, the roads and pathways were covered in proper snow - feet, not inches. The worst that happened was the school bus didn't turn up, or people were a bit late for work. I certainly don't remember much "chaos", or demands for an explanation by the Secretary of State for Transport. Until last week I had assumed it was the same across the UK. I was, of course, mistaken.

A week last Thursday afternoon snow started falling on the Houses of Parliament. It was nothing dramatic, but two hours later Westminster tube station was shut. Getting home - normally a 35-minute journey - was hilarious.

It turned out it was not just Westminster that was shut - it was most of the network. How did this happen, given the underground is, by its very nature, underground?

Apparently, snow had fallen on the platforms of some of the outlying stations. Too dangerous to walk about on - so the entire line was shut.

When I eventually battled home on one of the few trains still running, there were no buses. It was too dangerous, they said, to go out in two inches of snow. After standing at a freezing taxi rank, a car pulled up and the driver said: 'Get in, I'll take you home'. He was not a taxi driver and didn't want any money - he was just a Londoner invoking the spirit of the Blitz.

The next morning was, amazingly, even more ridiculous. I tried an over-land train, thinking it would be a better bet. It got stuck behind a seized-up carriage in front.

The two hours sat listening to an orchestra of mobile phones, into which people barked: 'I'm stuck on the train' were enlightening.

I shall keep mine on mute in future.

Next, it was back on the tube - which was just about working, but in even more overcrowded conditions than normal. It took an age to even get on a train, and another hour or so passed before I got to work.

When I reached the lobby, I thought war had broken out. The faces were like thunder. But it was the snow which was the news item of the day. Not Iraq.

The Prime Minister's Official Spokesman was harangued mercilessly. Over in the chamber, a point of order was being made. A minister must come to the House and give a statement on this "chaos", MPs boomed.

Alastair Darling, the Transport Secretary, could not make it. But he did manage to interrupt a performance on Radio Four's Any Questions to tell the world how unacceptable it was for London to have suffered discomfort.

Meanwhile, one MP who got stuck on the M11 was demanding resignations. He didn't say whose. I expect he didn't care.

What do we learn from this? It confirms London's Transport system is on the verge of collapse and people who live in the capital - to use a word they don't understand - are nesh. They don't see snow very often and it appears to frighten them.

But most of all it shows the world of politics is too London-centric. If the capital is inconvenienced, Ministers must drop their red boxes and sort it out. Up North? They're a tough lot.

They won't moan.

Updated: 11:04 Friday, February 07, 2003