Julie's Boggle

A curious thing that one tends to hear when you live in London, is people saying “it doesn’t snow in London any more”.  And having lived here through 7 winters, I have to say that this comment is patently false.  Admittedly, we’re not talking New-York-size snow drifts or the Thames being frozen over, but with the occasional exception, we have been witnesses to a pretty white dusting over everything at least once a winter.

However, after this last Monday, I think we can safely say that we’ve now seen Proper Snow in London.  Not just a centimetre-thick layer that only lasts a day or so, but a deliciously thick coating that, several days later, is still quietly defrosting in the drizzle outside as I write.

We were bracing ourselves for cold weather this week, but the forecasters don’t always get the snow predictions right so I didn’t get my hopes up.

But as Sunday rolled around, the cold was definitely coming in, and Sunday evening brought the first scattering of white that had our fresh-off-the-boat antipodean neighbours upstairs getting very excited.

By Monday morning, it was clear that this snowfall was going to be something special.  Already it was a thick layer all over our garden and it was still coming down in flutters of white.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, we got ourselves dressed up warmly and headed out for the closest park (Shepherds Bush Green) just as soon as we’d finished breakfast.

Outside we discovered that the stairs had been prettily decorated with a thick snow pillow on every step (that sadly had to be cleared before we could proceed), and at street-level, there was a layer about 6 cm deep.

Jon was already not too impressed by how long we’d taken to dress him in all his bulky gear, and when Tom sat him down on the snowy ground, the first thing he did was burst into tears.  Poor little fellow, I don’t think he appreciated the fresh, white world at all.

Pushing the pushchair through the snow was not easy-going, but on the plus side, it did provide something solid to hang on to when things got slippery.  For each step onto a layer of virgin snow, the grip was reasonable as the crunchy white crystals compressed underfoot. However where the compression had been done by someone else, the footing on the squashed down layer was treacherous!

On the streets and up on the Green the atmosphere was quite festive.  With most of the public transport experiencing difficulties due to the snow (buses weren’t running, and lots of train lines had delays), many people couldn’t get to work and as a result were out enjoying themselves with their families instead.

We walked all around the Green, enjoying the winter-wonderland feel of the bare, snow-covered trees and the vast white lawns; tennis nets and playground equipment alike etched out in white. The footing was easier on the grass than it had been on the pavements, and there was something luxurious about stepping onto the thick but fragile blanket.

On our route we also found some rather impressive snowmen, and took a break from walking to pelt each other with snowballs.  Through all the frivolity, Jon remained rather sombre, but we took the fact that he wasn’t crying to be a sign that he wasn’t too distressed.

Walking back home we discovered the inevitable black slurries of ice, water and grit lining the major roads, as well as large patches of pavement that had become slick and uneven ice rinks.  Signs that it can’t be pretty and frosty white forever.

Anyway, while I think we are all grateful that the UK doesn’t see snow like that for weeks at a time, for a little while it brightened up a lot of lives and made February seem a little less drab.

(Most of the above photos are clickable if you want to see larger versions.  To see additional pictures of our snowy day, have a browse through this album.)