Every now and then I like to profoundly PROFOUNDLY disappoint you. Today is one of those days. Because I am going to talk about the weather.
It is effing freezing in this country. I say this with distaste because that is not what you bargain for when you move to London. Let New Yorkers wear their weird sleeping bag coats and my older brother miss 5 consecutive days of work for blizzards in Seattle (check out his snowman! I love how the carrot is, um, coming out of the mouth) but not us expats who demand the “temperate marine climate” we were promised. Not that I am proud to be a demanding foreigner that may inadvertently be propelling native Brits out of the city. But I think all you urban dwellers can commiserate. This is not a scenario of going from house to car to work to car to house. This is the kind of bone chilling cold where you walk a mile with your groceries and briefcase and dry cleaning and remark to yourself that you really need to start wearing long underwear under your pantyhose.
I didn’t appreciate this one newspaper headline: London colder than Antarctica. Much more fun are articles about Brits calling in sick when it’s cold. Because I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: 25 days of holiday is just not enough.