A list of over-used words in recent months would be littered with recessions, depressions and of course the ubiquitous credit crunch.

But, thanks to the wet and wintry weather, the word that sums up the last year for me is cancelled.

In our household I have lost count of the number of times rain or freezing temperatures have put paid to rugby training and matches, hunting and cross-country competitions.

The snow even got the better of the military earlier this month when it called off the annual farmers’ dinner at Castlemartin Range.

We only live up the road and the children had joked that if the snow got too deep the army would be sending a tank to get us there. The idea quite appealed, but it was not to be after the caterers pulled out because of concerns for staff safety on the icy roads.

Even school was called off for two days, despite buses getting many children to the local classroom without a hitch. On the first day around 30 teachers failed to turn up, while on the second it was the children who let the side down. So few turned up that little teaching could be done so by lunchtime my three were home again, soaking wet from the mass snowball fights that had broken out on the school field.

Among the hardiest bunch of people I know are those who hunt. Not much forces a meet to be abandoned, but the weather has even got the better of them this year, with several cancellations because of dangerous ground conditions. A Saturday meet can raise £200 or more in field money and the number of cancellations this season will have a marked impact on hunt coffers.

When it comes to farming, weather is part of the package. Come rain or shine the stock need to be fed, milked and cared for during calving or lambing.

We calve all our herd within six weeks in February and March, so we don’t expect blazing sunshine. On one of the days the children were sent home from school we calved a record number of cows. Farmers just get on with it.

But I think we will all be relieved when spring arrives. I have been known to curse the arrival of the house martins that nest under our roof because of the cacophony of noise they make at dawn, coupled with the mess they leave on the windows.

But this year I promise to rejoice their arrival, so long as they bring some warm and dry weather with them and an end to cancellations.