A winter postcard

London, England -- When it snows in London, it’s a magical time. Last night it became more Switzerland than the city by the Thames. Any street or park that has even the minutest hint of an incline has a sled on it today. And the British are actually talking to one another in the street, even if it’s just to say ‘Oooch it’s cold today, but rather lovely’. ‘Lovely’ is a superlative for a Brit – it shows they are really happy. I can hear shrieks of delight coming from the kids in my street. I’ve taken some pictures in my neighbourhood which I think will make some of you hardy North Americans smile. I can almost hear you chuckling ‘Snow – you call that snow? Why that’s a mere dusting of icing sugar on a strudel!’ That may be so, but it’s enough to shake off the mundane and steer even the most hardened Londoner into memories of childhood and stories of winter wonderlands. We were issued a level 3 weather warning (we only have 4) for this. I can hear another wallop of laughter from across the pond.

Having been born and raised in Canada, I know a thing or two about whether to employ wool mittens or leather gloves to make the perfect snowball – depending on the type of snow. The Inuit have about a hundred different names for snow type/quality. Not that I know even three of them, but I do know we have the perfect wet white stuff for some pretty creative efforts in the snow people stakes. I am no artist, but I like to reconnect with my youth and make snow girls. Snowmama is my personal favourite and Snowgirl already has the birds at her blueberry eyes and buttons. The tall awkward looking Snowcop thing was made by my other half – not great, but he had fun making it. He’s a Brit with little experience so I cut him some slack.

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Interesting sights we have seen with this snowfall include an Austin Martin DB9 skidding itself into a frenzy out near the petrol station last night. This otherwise uber slick and pricey car of choice for James Bond looked like a wounded kitten as it’s driver tried to shift into gear while whizzing around in half moons. Then there was our satellite dish which got completely covered last night and shut down our TV. We are left with our books and conversation. It’s time to stop and reconnect to a slower pace. Not a bad thing. Maybe it’ll slow down our politicians to think about what they do. Pipe dream. This is the time of year our 4 x 4 comes into its own. All our neighbours who mock us all the rest of the year for our politically incorrect, petrol guzzling, non eco choice, workhorse of a vehicle will be pleased to hook onto the other end of our heavy duty towline in an emergency. So while you will hear news reports about Heathrow cancellations, chaos on our roads, fresh vegetables and bread not being delivered to the shops and the poor elderly suffering, some even sadly dying with the cold, all true to be sure, know also that there are a lot of Brits talking to one another, having snowball fights with their kids and having a good time this weekend. And I’ll be making strudel for tea this afternoon.