Depending on which news source you read, since Sunday London has seen up to three, six, even eight inches of new snow accumulate. Schools were closed, traffic jammed, and complaints about lack of snowplows ran rampant. (Just like our Seattle snowfall before Christmas!)
But just like here, the unusual volume of snow has also piqued excitement and delight amongst Londoners more accustomed to weather that is grey and damp than white and fluffy. Sledding (sledging) on Primrose Hill, skiing on snow-covered sidewalks, and general winter merriment has ensued.
Here are some snowy London scenes, borrowed from the BBC.
London snow is not unheard of in literature. In addition to the ubiquitous romantic snow scenes in movies like Bridget Jones's Diary, poet Robert Bridges wrote "London Snow" back in 1890, telling of seven inches of new snow blanketing the city.
When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled - marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.
Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;
Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;
Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder!'
'O look at the trees!' they cried, 'O look at the trees!'
With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,
Following along the white deserted way,
A country company long dispersed asunder:
When now already the sun, in pale display
Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.
For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow;
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,
Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go:
But even for them awhile no cares encumber
Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber
At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken.
Bridges' lines foreshadowed the magical effect of snowfall on adults and children alike, as real life mirrored fiction (and poetry). Alas, no one has been yet been spotted running through the snow in knickers and trainers, or snogging Colin Firth on a snowy street corner!
