January 28, 2004
Slush
There's been a bit of a cold snap lately. Yesterday, we were being promised up to 5 inches of snow. We awoke this morning to sunshine, light cloud, dry streets -- and a radio report of heavy falls everywhere -- except Central London. What the fuck?What kind of weather is that specific? I mean, I can accept limited snow, brief flurries in the remote highlands or whatever. Even quite widespread snow that misses, say, the whole of the southeast. But snow that takes a small detour to avoid the city centre? Did it just not want to pay the sodding congestion charge or something? I mean, for crying out fucking loud, all we wanted was a bit of decorative snow, was that too much to ask?
Well, almost.
A little after 5pm we emerged from part two of His Dark Materials into a quite astonishing arctic blizzard that had evidently begun only moments before. Ten minutes later, when we were driving across Blackfriars Bridge, a dense fog of flakes made it impossible to see one side of the river from the other, and snow was accumulating in a thick layer on the roads, cars and trudging pedestrians. Drivers dared not go faster than walking pace. The sky hung so low you could reach out and touch it, and great lightning flashes illuminated it from within. It was beautiful.
But, alas, short-lived. Half an hour later it was all over. The snow had settled because there was so much of it so fast, but the ground was too warm for it to last, and it quickly turned to slush. By the time it occurred to me to grab my camera and try to get some pics, there wasn't really anything left to see:
