There’s some snow on the way. And by “some”, I mean an inch or so. But in London and South-East of England, an inch of snow is the closest we come to armageddon and the complete breakdown of society.
There are posters up in tube stations warning of the approaching snow and its inevitable impact on the Northern Line, along with a slight hysteria in how TV is reporting the weather.
I have to wonder what the rest of the world – the world that gets proper weather – thinks of London when we panic like this. It’s a little bit embarrassing.
That said, tomorrow will bring snow and with it, travel chaos. I have to make it out to Gatwick and back and part of me thinks it might be prudent to bring a packed lunch. And perhaps some dinner. I think it’s inevitable that the trains will go tits up and we’ll all watch news clips of thousands of commuters waiting forlornly on station platforms, with no trains in sight.
Except for me. I won’t be at home to watch the news, as I’ll be at Gatwick Airport, cursing my stupidity at scheduling a client meeting in the face of such arctic conditions.