At the time we were snowed in, we lived on a lane that joined together the 2 roads that led to civilisation, one across the top of the lane, and one across the bottom. Our lane, or Drove, as it was called, was free of snow apart from a slight dusting, it was the 2 roads top and bottom that were snowed up and blocked. On the second day, hubby walked down to the bottom road, said it looked OK apart from ridges of snow across the road at regular intervals, so he said we`d be able to make it to town, 9 miles away, that the secret was to approach the ridges at top speed (famous last words!). We set off, and promptly got stuck on the top of one of those ridges, which turned out to be more ice than snow, and couldn`t move back or forth. As we were sitting there, me feeling more embarrassed by the second, along came a farm tractor, hooked us up and pulled us off, whereby we slunk off home, trying to look invisible! It was 2 more days before the roads were passable, but even then the main road into town was single lane, with walls of snow either side about 20 feet high, with passing places cut into them. It was the first time I`d experienced being cut off, we moved nearer town a couple of years later.