With the overreaction this city (and country) is showing to over cold weather, I wouldn’t be surprised if they endeavoured to label the wind a terrorist threat next.
I swear to hearing two old ones on the bus, reminiscing about the Great Fire of London they were. All the way home from work this evening it was. I see that the shelves in the supermarkets have been cleared. An old Soviet saying; you really know your town is about to go shit-whore when the people start ransacking the clothing shops. I’ll be directing an eye toward the news on Primark every now and then from now on. I’ve seen a couple of Amazon deliver men braving it, so I’m not on high alert just yet.
If you find yourself in London and cold, here is an easy guide to finding the most snug and warm lane of transport.
You can now follow my increasingly strange adventures on Instagram here.
Hah! I just got back from four days in London (lovely weekend you had there) and sort of enjoyed the over-reaction of the tube workers with the various delays and the “inclement, adverse weather”. The Central Line yesterday was really warm thanks to being packed in like a sardine 🙂
A question from a yank here. My husband(also a yank) has always said London and much of England doesn’t get snow due to where it lies with the jet stream. But I remind him that in Dickens’s classic A Christmas Carol, he writes of snowball fights with Bob Cratchitt walking home on Christmas Eve. So, which is correct?
It’s true that the UK doesn’t get as much snow as the US, but we get it on occasion.
I rode the Central Line July last and having heard how warm and busy it was, expected the worst as I was about to board. Some years before I had ridden in a Tokyo subway train, coincidentally in July. Now that one was hot, as a tropical summer can do. And packed it was, too, by the helpful white-gloved agents who literally stand at each station and gracefully shove passengers in until the doors barely close.
So, having experienced this and hearing hardly any complaints from the Japanese, I was certain this London experience would be even more of the same.
It wasn’t.
Nowhere near the heat of an Asian summer. And no white-gloved gentlemen to assist.
Oh well, during cold times I suppose either memory can help warm things a bit.
I’ve been told that the effect of 20 minutes on the Central Line is equivalent with smoking a cigarette.