You may be interested to know we Brits can't cope with snow. We simply cannot. So for all my international readers I thought I would outline what it's like in Britain when the snow comes...
Firstly WE NEVER HAVE ENOUGH SALT. EVER. Considering we only get 3-5 days of this madness every 365, you would think we could have it covered. We don't. We never do. We probably never will. Somehow whatever baboon has been entrusted with the divine title of Chief of Salt Purchasing within our local Councils NEVER orders enough.
Then the temperatures drop and the whole country rushes out to their car with their camera phone to take a picture of their dashboard thermometer reading and post it on Facebook. Yes it's cold. I know, I'm cold too. You're not colder than me, your thermometer reading is not news.
British amateur weather reporting has it's own rules too. What, to a Canadian for example, would be be described as a "smattering", to a Brit is a "blizzard". A "dusting" is a "snowstorm". Also when describing how much snow you've had you ALWAYS round UP to the nearest foot (or four). An inch is a foot. A genuine foot (FOR THE LOVE OF CRUNCHIES!) is about four feet.
Now this point might be more international. Dads, brothers, boyfriends, husbands, uncles... Males of whatever relation LOVE snowball fights. As men mature, generally they grow out of making everything into swords, guns or any other weaponry and playing at a variety of fight genres. But they never EVER grow out of snowball fighting. Ever.
Men love snowball fights so much that you can put money on the man in your life losing himself so much in the hysteria of a snowball fight that he hits someone FAR smaller, weaker and way more vulnerable than themselves much too hard with what can only be described as a ice cannonball. For shame men. For shame.
Everyone resents working when it snows. Mostly due to the predictability of my previous point and the roads when we see a snowflake graphic on a weather report we all see the potential for a free day off. Regardless of if you drive to work, work outside or rely on weather conditions in anyway we all see it as our God given right to have a day off if it snows. (I have also experienced, as a former secondary school teacher, ALOT of teacher directed resentment as schools close and snow day envy embitters all.)
That said I love the snow. I love Britain when it snows. It's like this unexpected holiday time where everyone cancels their plans and hunkers down with hot drinks (though be them sans milk) and chills with their nearest and dearest. We all get excited (it's just the men that expel it with a violent theme). We all get out and walk in it, marvel in it, feel EXTRA cosy being out of it and looking at it. And despite some horrendous fashion faux pas' dotting the landscape, everything looks pretty covered in it.
Euna LOVED it...
My snow attire was no exception to the rule...