it never snows in London
“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.” James Joyce – The Dubliners.
I woke up a week ago to find a gift from Russia in the form of 6 inches of snow on the ground. This is the most it has snowed in London for 18 years, and it’s wooonderfullll.
It lasted one beautiful day, though the snowmen lasted a little longer.
Here is how it first appeared – magic Narnia. I found myself scratching at the back of my wardrobe in the hope Mr Tumnus would make me a hot chocolate. Of course, nothing ever remains as sweet and innocent as on first appearance. By the time I was dressed and able (though not willing) to go to work, it turned nasty. I set out desperately smug because I had dragged my hiking boots out of the wardrobe (I had worked out by now Mr Tumnus wasn’t coming). “Ha ha”, I thought, “I climbed Tongariro in these, what’s a bit of snow after that”. Smartass. And soreass not long after. Hiking boots no damn good on ice without crampons.
Still, it was pretty, I only fell down twice, and the bruises are mostly faded a week later. The chap in the photo was from Singapore – he probably thought chilled rice noodle was falling from the sky – but he seemed to enjoy it.
The third iteration of the Great London Snow did not involve embarrassing sore bottom incidents. Even better, I got to see Hyde Park the Winter Wonderland – an experience sorely missing from both the actual 2008 and 2007 Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. Well worth the bruises, the lack of public transport, and having to go to work when I desperately wanted to release my inner smartass ten-year-old and build Henry Moore’s 1967 tribute to WB Yeats out of snow.