Christmas morning 2010, five miles south of Taunton, where I was living at the time.
I'm prepared to admit it might not have been a real white Christmas, in the sense it didn't snow. But quite frankly, who was counting by that stage?
Also, Gooner makes a very good point. When we get this sort of thing again, don't waste it. A major reason for people's frustration with British winters seems to result from them staying indoors, glued to their screens and looking for the breakdown whenever we do get periods of snow and ice.
I spent that Christmas afternoon sledging with the dog until the magical afternoon dissolved into that weird blue Arctic twilight unique to December 2010, with the snowy landscapes occurring around the shortest day.
Who cares if it wasn't actually snowing!
2 miles west of Taunton, 32 m asl, where "milder air moving in from the west" becomes SNOWMAGEDDON.
Well, two or three times a decade it does, anyway.