Thursday, December 02, 2010
London is but covered this morning with inches and inches of snow.
If my Wellingtons have been the subject of ridicule, then who is laughing now?
(Especially the French guy who said, "Yu arre a leetle fashon veecteem oui?")
I am, fuckers.
It's freezing and all trains have stopped working, basically.
Woke up, looked out of [The Brit's] window [above], and wow. Winter wonderland.
Unheard of for this early on, I'm told. Am also told I need to brace myself.
I have unwittingly moved to England on the apex of what is deemed to be the Harshest Winter In The UK In Twenty Years.
I've stepped, gingerly, into this new country, new climate, and albeit beautiful and white, it's going to continue to be fucking freezing, epic, and insane.
The road. Oh so quiet. No fuckwits, chavs, people or cars.
If my vision serves me correctly (mascara is now iced up and frozen on me eyelids), that looks like a Saffa in a rubgy jersey trying to start his car just off Putney Hill.
Which reminds me. I bought a bag of biltong last night in Wimbledon. A bag so big, I'd need to check it in on a flight. Or pay for it if I was going EasyJet.
These are train tracks. Notice that no trains are on these tracks. This is how transport operates in London when it snows.
But at least I have my Wellingtons. It's a challenge to get around, it's plain dogsballs. But it is ever so pretty.