There’s a proper blog here, for those that are interested (and thank you for your interesting comments, already)…
But we can’t let the snow pass by without saying how much we love snow, can we? Dorset is beautiful in the snow, of course, but nothing beats the first few hours of a snowfall in London. And particularly on a Sunday.
I changed a few plans to come back on Saturday, in between the snow that had swept over Dorset and that which was threatening to fall over London. An added bonus was a happy birthday party that night to go to.
My apartment shone this morning with a rather etherial light. Looking out of the balcony, and just drinking my morning coffee, it was hard to believe that I hadn’t been transported to Stockholm. Bliss.
(please note: no more cluster. Please also note – I am not about to paint the room orange. That was a passing idea, and not the best one).
But recovering from what crept up on me as a rather more severe hangover than I had anticipated (when I first got up this morning I felt fine… one of those…) I knew that despite my better intentions to stay in bed all day, I had to head to west Bloomsbury to truly appreciate the snow in the city. Bedford Square (a favourite, as regular readers of this blog will recall) was breathtakingly beautiful.
I think what I love most of all about the snow is the desaturation; the absence of colour; grey upon grey, black, brown, olive green and white. And thank god, of course, that postboxes and telephone booths are painted red.
I am sure in a day or two we will be cursing the snow, so let’s remember that we loved it when it first fell. Well, at least, I did.
There’s a proper blog here, for those that are interested (and thank you for your interesting comments, already)…
But we can’t let the snow pass by without saying how much we love snow, can we? Dorset is beautiful in the snow, of course, but nothing beats the first few hours of a snowfall in London. And particularly on a Sunday.
I changed a few plans to come back on Saturday, in between the snow that had swept over Dorset and that which was threatening to fall over London. An added bonus was a happy birthday party that night to go to.
My apartment shone this morning with a rather etherial light. Looking out of the balcony, and just drinking my morning coffee, it was hard to believe that I hadn’t been transported to Stockholm. Bliss.
(please note: no more cluster. Please also note – I am not about to paint the room orange. That was a passing idea, and not the best one).
But recovering from what crept up on me as a rather more severe hangover than I had anticipated (when I first got up this morning I felt fine… one of those…) I knew that despite my better intentions to stay in bed all day, I had to head to west Bloomsbury to truly appreciate the snow in the city. Bedford Square (a favourite, as regular readers of this blog will recall) was breathtakingly beautiful.
I think what I love most of all about the snow is the desaturation; the absence of colour; grey upon grey, black, brown, olive green and white. And thank god, of course, that postboxes and telephone booths are painted red.
I am sure in a day or two we will be cursing the snow, so let’s remember that we loved it when it first fell. Well, at least, I did.
