Here, in good old mild-weathered England, we have been dreaming of a white Christmas—and then waking up in a cold sweat, hoping that the nightmare will soon be over.
As the Arctic air swept down once again over the weekend, dumping 6 inches or so in many places, the country ground to a halt: a dead stop, in fact.
It took the family and me nearly one and a half hours to travel three miles into town on Saturday, via foot, train, and foot. And we had it easy. Plenty of our friends took much longer to go absolutely nowhere, stuck in cars, airports, or motorways.
The exceptionally cold snap hit smack-bang in the middle of the biggest shopping and travel days of the year, bringing utter misery to millions who had places to go and presents to buy. Estimates indicate that nearly half a million flights were disrupted. Thousands of passengers had to sleep in Heathrow Airport.
Christmas is by far the biggest time for families in the U.K., who often bring relatives from far and wide to stay together over several days.
At this time of year, Brits are usually putting the final touches on their Christmas plans, or heading to relatives.
But the nation’s plans are on ice right now, as we watch the weather forecast and weigh the risks of our notoriously dodgy cold-weather infrastructure.
The cold snap left the city center here blissfully atmospheric, the sense of adventure and reduced crowds making it unseasonably, festive.
The Christmas market began to resemble the clichéd images on the cards we send each year: Icicles hung from roofs, sparkling in the lights of the merry-go round, a blanket of clean snow neatly topping everything in a uniform border. The warmth of humanity was out on display too, as people came out of their houses armed with shovels to aid the wheel-spinning vehicles up the slopes.
But while Britain might love the romantic trappings of a white Christmas, we can’t cope with it.
This is the third winter in a row to hammer the country into infrastructural meltdown. We are told so far it is the worst winter for 30 years (and it isn’t over yet). But the fact is that it is no worse than the weather endured every season by many places around the world, whose major cities don’t even skip a beat when the blizzards come.
The difference is that we only get a taste of Siberia occasionally—I can remember whole winters with nothing but grey drizzle. So the government thinks it isn’t worth the investment in all those things that keep a country moving through the odd cold snap, like snowplows and salt that people living in colder climes take for granted.
Apparently many air passengers from Sweden, the United States, and Canada were shocked by the disruption that only a few inches of snow had brought.
I was happily taking the snowfall with bemusement until my local shopkeepers said they couldn’t accept credit cards because the snow had somehow brought down the computer system.
Or, rather, it hit me five minutes later, when I realized that we had little food in the house and that I’d blown our last cash on reindeer antlers and a sparkly silver Santa hat for the kids. Warnings about supermarkets running out of food came back to me.
Like many Britons, I’m starting to dream of a grey Christmas—just like the ones we used to know.
As the Arctic air swept down once again over the weekend, dumping 6 inches or so in many places, the country ground to a halt: a dead stop, in fact.
It took the family and me nearly one and a half hours to travel three miles into town on Saturday, via foot, train, and foot. And we had it easy. Plenty of our friends took much longer to go absolutely nowhere, stuck in cars, airports, or motorways.
The exceptionally cold snap hit smack-bang in the middle of the biggest shopping and travel days of the year, bringing utter misery to millions who had places to go and presents to buy. Estimates indicate that nearly half a million flights were disrupted. Thousands of passengers had to sleep in Heathrow Airport.
Christmas is by far the biggest time for families in the U.K., who often bring relatives from far and wide to stay together over several days.
At this time of year, Brits are usually putting the final touches on their Christmas plans, or heading to relatives.
But the nation’s plans are on ice right now, as we watch the weather forecast and weigh the risks of our notoriously dodgy cold-weather infrastructure.
The cold snap left the city center here blissfully atmospheric, the sense of adventure and reduced crowds making it unseasonably, festive.
The Christmas market began to resemble the clichéd images on the cards we send each year: Icicles hung from roofs, sparkling in the lights of the merry-go round, a blanket of clean snow neatly topping everything in a uniform border. The warmth of humanity was out on display too, as people came out of their houses armed with shovels to aid the wheel-spinning vehicles up the slopes.
But while Britain might love the romantic trappings of a white Christmas, we can’t cope with it.
This is the third winter in a row to hammer the country into infrastructural meltdown. We are told so far it is the worst winter for 30 years (and it isn’t over yet). But the fact is that it is no worse than the weather endured every season by many places around the world, whose major cities don’t even skip a beat when the blizzards come.
The difference is that we only get a taste of Siberia occasionally—I can remember whole winters with nothing but grey drizzle. So the government thinks it isn’t worth the investment in all those things that keep a country moving through the odd cold snap, like snowplows and salt that people living in colder climes take for granted.
Apparently many air passengers from Sweden, the United States, and Canada were shocked by the disruption that only a few inches of snow had brought.
I was happily taking the snowfall with bemusement until my local shopkeepers said they couldn’t accept credit cards because the snow had somehow brought down the computer system.
Or, rather, it hit me five minutes later, when I realized that we had little food in the house and that I’d blown our last cash on reindeer antlers and a sparkly silver Santa hat for the kids. Warnings about supermarkets running out of food came back to me.
Like many Britons, I’m starting to dream of a grey Christmas—just like the ones we used to know.
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