People constantly ask me (in an incredulous tone) why on earth I would move to England. I make jokes about the wonderful quality of life, good food, and fabulous weather. Then they tell me that I’m crazy, and they would do anything for the chance to live in Australia.
I know I say those things in jest, but actually English weather does have some good points, notably snow in the winter. Like English weather in general, it’s totally unreliable, but I love it when it arrives. This is what I’ve been waking up to out my window each day this week:
I live on a main road, so haven’t had to face the travel dramas that seem to have befallen the rest of the country (although I had two colleagues have to push start my car this afternoon as I was snowed in), but this also means that I haven’t had an excuse for a snow day.
Having said that, this week has seen the coldest weather I’ve ever experienced and I’m struggling to cope without central heating. Plans for this weekend revolve around knitting to keep warm.