LET IT SNOW

Since Sunday night, a wave of snowy weather has swept across the UK, and we woke up yesterday morning to find everything covered in a pristine powdery blanket, the one that you see in books and films (although I understand in the latter case it can be made of paper, plastic foam, soap or even potato flakes) but not usually on your doorstep, at least not in London.

Don't you just love snow? I love the way it changes our perception of the world around, softening a sharp edge into a gentle curve, transforming a garish facade into a subtle harmony in black and white, muffling most sounds while conferring an eerie crispness to each of our steps. I also love the way it intrudes in the sometimes all too organised rituals of city life, and how it can disrupt them.

Although Britain is not renowned for its particularly clement weather, something as naturally occurring as snow can still wreak havoc on its transport system. We have all heard of trains delayed or cancelled because “the wrong kind of snow” had fallen on the tracks. Well, when you have a layer of snow 10-cm thick, whatever its kind, transport in Britain grinds to a screeching halt. There were no buses at all in London yesterday, very few trains coming in or out, three tube lines were not operating, and thousands of schools in the area were closed. In addition, an estimated one in five employees did not turn up for work.

Business associations may bemoan the impact on British economy, I just smile. Maybe I am just a lazy person who enjoys staying at home and watching the snowflakes dance. But also, what would life be without a bit of unpredictability? Beyond the transformation it performs on our once familiar surroundings, snow brings about lots of unusual, sometimes amusing scenes: cars still covered in a thick layer of snow driving along the street like floating snowdrifts, trees suddenly shedding their load on an unsuspecting passer-by, snowmen lined up on the pavement like so many misshapen and rather unlucky hitchhikers, some slightly immature adult engaged in a snowball battle with a couple of kids (okay, I started it, but it was a tiny snowball, not much bigger than a snowflake, and then they ganged up on me. And how could I have known they had such mastery of military tactics?)

So while the rest of Britain braces itself for yet more snow in the coming days, I say "Bring it on!": I have a new coat, a thick scarf, and a good reserve of snowballs.