It would have been amiss of me not to take the opportunity to gloat about a trip to Tenerife to anyone who would listen. I'm not a fan of January, it's a miserable month, so a few days in warmer climates while spending some time with Hull KR during their warm-weather training camp? Well, maybe I could come to like the turn of the year after all.

And as this piece is published, I am indeed soaking up the sun, albeit, only after a commute from hell that my friends tell me is karma for basking in the fact this job has a few perks from time to time.

Not even the snow, a fair cause of my general hatred for January, could dampen my mood. Not for now, anyway. It soon would. I live quite high up in Halifax, so the snow has been particularly bad. But good old dad offered his taxi services, or as he would put it, was politely told, he would be driving me to the airport.

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So with a suitcase in hand and laptop bag in tow, I crunched through the snow, so deep I couldn't identify where the kerb and the road were, to get to the main road to meet my taxi. Soggy jeans and damp feet aside, everything was going to plan.

Now before you ask, of course I was aware that the weather might result in travel disruptions. I absolutely expected delays. And yes, I was checking every app and website imaginable waiting for travel updates. Every single one said the flight was on time.

So off I went from drop off to bag drop, happy days. The airport was a hive of activity, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything going to plan. That is, until, my passport is scanned.

"Sorry sir, your flight has been rescheduled for tomorrow." My spirit flopped as aggressively as Franklin Pele on Elliot Minchella in the derby. A very hurried call to dad, a very disgruntled dad it should be said, followed. If a wasted trip at a ridiculously early time wasn't bad enough, he'd paid £7 to drop me off, only to be told when he returned that the barriers are up and he didn't need to pay. Absolutely wounded he was.

So picture this, in the space of an hour I've gone from thinking I'm off to Tenerife to being back at home trying to shovel and push the rest of my street out and off to work. The soggy jeans are now drenched. Feet are frozen. Spirit shattered. Life comes at you quickly. And for the record, none of the cars got out. It was like watching Lightning McQueen imitate Bambi on ice.

After thawing out, attention quickly turned to finding an alternative route to Tenerife and thankfully, Manchester Airport offered a solution. Flights are cheap and trains are running. Everything is booked and I'm happy again, until I have to pay an extra £2.43 for Uber Priority because all the 'regular' services are turning down my trip. What a day.

The train journey is spent responding to all my friends basking in my misfortune but soon enough I'm there and checked in. I'm pulled at security for an extra search. I'm informed the machine flagged me because my hoodie was so wet. Remember, it's now about four hours since I was out pushing cars.

Of course, the next flight I'm on is delayed too, only by an hour mind, so it could be worse. And as I wander about I bump into Neil Hudgell, who is on the same flight as me as well as Paul Lakin, Paul Sewell and Mike Smith. And we even get a beer. Things are starting to look up.

The highlight of the delay is when an Irish woman joins our table to eat her lunch as we've the only spare seat in the bar, who goes on to tell Paul Sewell and Neil that they're clearly brothers as they look so alike, other than that fact Paul is clearly older. Neil does a good job of playing along though the smugness etched in his smile is clear to see.

This is the first time I've met Paul Sewell and what struck me was his passion not only for Hull KR but rugby league as a whole. Sewell is a football man converted but his new-found love for rugby league is clear. He speaks about his passion for the community the club represents and the contributions the club can make to it. He speaks in detail about enhancing the brand and improving the sport's financial health. As far as first impressions go it's clear that Paul, and Mike too, are in it for the right reasons.

Of course, there had to be another delay. The aeroplane had been in situ all day and needed deicing. Honestly. As a result, we missed our slot on the runway. We're delayed another 35 minutes.

But eventually, we arrive. We're picked up by Bonesy, who is delighted to tell us Tommy Coyle hasn't lost any of his rugby balls this year... yet. There's still plenty of time.

And with that, a very long travel day was over and Hull KR diaries are back. January, bloody hell.

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