We lived some two miles from our high school, and to get there, we usually took the Public Service bus. Or walked.
In those days, they were rather averse to closing the school on account of snow. So one day, as it snowed rather heavily, my brother and I, and our friend Gary, found ourselves standing almost knee-deep in snow, waiting for the bus. Which never came. So we had to walk, because there had been no official school closing.
The home room bell used to ring at 7:18 a.m. We got there at around 10:30, and found the school virtually deserted. The few students who had made it there now gathered in Mrs. Wilcox’s chemistry lab, where she had a dart board. Maybe 5% of the student body made it to school that day, and maybe a dozen of the teachers. By and by the principal stopped in and told us we might as well go home. It didn’t occur to him to recommend any particular way of accomplishing that.
So we walked: another two miles in snow that was now hip-deep. I’m afraid we loved every minute of it. We finally got back home around supper-time. And the next day it was sleeping late, soup for breakfast, and sleds and snow-men instead of algebra and English grammar. There are few times in life when you come out that far ahead on the deal!