Normally, I believe in living in the moment. I like to focus on the present, and reserve the reminiscing for reunions with old friends. But this blog entry, my very first one, is an exception to that rule, because I’m still a little obsessed with the snow that doesn’t seem likely to reappear any time soon.
Ask any Londoner about snow, and they will most likely roll their eyes, warning you that most Londoners can’t drive in the snow, that the tube lines become unpredictable, that it melts very quickly, and it’s generally a nuisance. I’ve found all of this to be true, except the last bit. Because what they don’t mention is how beautiful London is when it snows. The whole city somehow seems softer and quieter when the rooftops are all powdery white. Coming from Texas, I consider snow a rare treat, and therefore ran outside in insufficiently warm clothes to catch snowflakes on my tongue. I got a few weird looks, yes, but I also caught a group of businessmen across the street holding out their hands to catch the flakes.
And I definitely wasn’t the only one to make the long, cold journey out to Hampstead Heath to enjoy the weather. I was just the only one not to have appropriate footwear. (As I said, I’m from Texas; I don’t own snow boots. Sadly, I didn’t own rain boots [or ‘wellies’] at the time, either. I quickly learned my lesson, and now own a pair.) Which meant that after I went down the hill to snap this photo of the ducks on the partially frozen lake,
I fell over multiple times attempting to go back up the hill, and eventually had to crawl up on my hands and knees. It wasn’t my most dignified moment, but it was worth it. Families went sledding down the hills, dogs looked overjoyed as they bounded into heaps of snow, and a few people even built snowmen. Which prompted me to build my own, unimpressive snowman a few days later at Hyde Park. There’s no photo, since I didn’t finish until it was dark, but if you ever get the chance to try it for yourself, I recommend it. There is nothing more fun than a snowball fight with strangers, followed by a walk through a snow-covered Hyde Park. I swear I felt like I was in a BBC classic the whole time, although that’s probably just the Nineteenth Century Studies major in me. Still, London in the snow is undeniably gorgeous. See?
And here ends my obsession with the snow, I promise. Next time, I’ll tell you about the man in the Angel tube station dressed as a zebra centaur, or my attempts to find Tex-Mex in London, or the studying that dominates most of my life, or as-yet-unforeseen adventures. If you’d rather hear about something else, just leave me a recommendation in the comments, and I’ll do my best.