THERE were no snow days for us here at ET Towers. The news never stops and so neither can we.

One of my colleagues walked 90 minutes to get in to the office. Others waited at bus stops in the sub-zero temperatures for more than an hour to try to make their shift. It doesn't matter whether it's tropical sunshine or Arctic blasts - we still have a paper to put to bed.

You can call it any cliche you like - rallying round, stepping up, going above and beyond - but the thing I have enjoyed most about the snow is seeing people club together to keep things working.

(The thing I have enjoyed least is seeing people complain on Facebook and Twitter of having cabin fever. I didn't get the chance to catch cabin fever and I'm jealous.)

We all saw the NHS heroes battling through snow - some walking for hours - to make sure their patients had the care they need. Taxi drivers risked the icy roads so that blood donations reached hospitals and those who really needed to travel could reach their destinations.

Care workers were posting pictures to Facebook of themselves out in knee-deep snow trying to reach their vulnerable clients and ensure they were warm, fed and safe.

Those with 4x4s were out giving lifts to people. While I would normally question the need for anyone to have a 4x4 in a city - will no one think of the environment? - even I couldn't doubt they came into their own this week.

While it was important that no one felt forced to go to work in dangerous conditions, those who could commute made sure shops were open so families didn't run out of food.

The snow turned everything on its head but it brought out the best in people.

It also showed me my faults.

My neighbour and I battled along Victoria Road on Thursday evening to get to our local Sainsburys - the only food store that had managed to stay open in our neighbourhood.

There was not a drop of fresh milk left or a slice of bread to be found and the place was packed with people grabbing necessary supplies. My neighbour was efficient and quick; she knew what she was there for and she toured the shelves without hesitation.

It turns out I would be useless in an apocalyptic situation. While everyone else was grabbing for the tinned tomatoes and UHT milk, I was hovering in front of the cheese section, crippled by the choice between Stilton and brie.

"Which cheese," I puzzled to myself as my neighbour waited patiently by the shop door for me, "Is the best cheese to be snowed in with?" Meanwhile, the shelves around me emptied.

I trudged home with a full Bag For Life, arrived back at my flat and discovered there was nothing to make a coherent dinner with. I also hadn't thought to buy any crackers to put the cheese on. (Stilton, seeing as you ask.)

By Saturday, as the snow started to melt, the roads opened and the situation began to feel a little less urgent, the snow-induced community spirit took on a giddy feel.

For the first time, I went sledging. I started off terrified and ended up refusing to leave the park.

Queen's Park had been turned into an enormous luge track. Every hill was blanketed with a thick, hard layer of compact snow and the slopes were packed with all ages and different parts of the community.

There were hipsters in sheepskin coats sledging on vintage silver tea trays. There was a group of delighted young Roma boys tying their sleds together to make a chain that landed them in a heap at the bottom of the slope every time they tried it.

Bin bags, baking trays and a lilo were put to use to get people from top to bottom of the hills.

One adventurous gent had managed to source a car bumper from somewhere, padded it with a cushion, and was doing his level best to put it into use as a sledge. The car bumper was not playing ball.

Another chap had fixed skis to the legs of a chair and was heading down the slopes like a king on a throne.

There was a snowboarder and a skier. There was also a gaggle of friends making a party of it all - heading down the slope with plastic flutes of some kind of fizz.

For the children out sledging the park had become a giant white canvas to mark as they pleased. Not just for sledging but for building snowmen and drawing pictures.

I can't say I made it to the very top slope with my borrowed plastic sledge but I climbed up high enough and flew down fast enough to feel proud of myself for overcoming what turned out to be a silly fear.

The Beast from the East set down a challenge for Glasgow but I think we rose to it. These snow days have brought out the best in us.