I live in 100+ year old house, with the original single-glazed windows, so I’ve achieved an expert-level understanding of when it really IS cold.
Somewhere around the time the second pair of socks under the heavily padded, ankle-covering slippers become ineffective is a sure sign. If this is combined with over three layers of clothing at body-level, then it’s official.
There has been some industrial-strength scaremongering from the papers and TV news. If you believe any/all of it, Spring has been cancelled for starters.
Odd, as I swear I saw a daffodil the other day. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure it can be postponed, but not actually cancelled altogether. Unless Trump and Kim Jong Un actually do throw their toys out of their prams, and press their big red nuclear buttons. In which case, bagsy the frozen penguin burger.
“Snowbomb” has also been bandied around, which actually sounds like fun. “Polar vortex” also suggests suitably, and literally, chilling conditions.
It’s also a “danger to life”. Really? Very cold weather is dangerous for the elderly, very young and infirm? Who’d have guessed? I mean, it’s not like it’s ever been cold before, is it? Thanks for the warning! I’ll put some trousers on.
Whilst we’re at it, have you noticed how TV weather forecasters are now mostly describing the temperatures with the wind-chill factor included?
That’s like me claiming I jumped 17 feet at school sports day, but including the indentation in the sand where I landed and fell forward with my arms outstretched.
In other stating-the- chuffing-obvious news, we should apparently make sure to heat our homes to at least 18C. All right – don’t go setting unachievable targets, you monsters. I’m having to saw up furniture to burn.
On the slightly positive side, it seems other parts of the country are copping the worst of it.
Our Scottish countrymen will tough it out – hell, they might even put a coat on – but the South East? There is panic, and rolling news coverage showing the same car with it’s wheels spinning, whilst a hapless reporter who forgot to buy a Secret Santa gift finds themselves stood by the side of a road whilst the blizzard blows horizontally, just in case you’re unfamiliar with what snow and stationary traffic looks like.
In a vain attempt to put all the doom-laded predictions in context, we’re apparently in the grip of the coldest February... in five years. Five? I’ve got underpants older than that. So whilst we’re all whining and panicking, think about 1963’s Big Freeze (which my parents always brought up any time I ever dared to suggest it had snowed a lot) or late ‘78/early ’79 (which still didn’t shut them up).
They were properly nasty. It’s winter. What were we expecting? I’m off to throw some more sideboard on the fire.
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