If you recall, in an early instalment, I complained bitterly about the amount of stuff that we had brought with us. You would have thought, reading my bleating about lifting the voluminous bags, that there was nothing that I had left behind. Well I discovered this morning the one thing that I left at home. It seems I have no toboggan. Today, I could have used it.

We awoke to snow this morning. Snow. About an inch of heavy, wet, white snow. The kind of thing that, if it fell in Toronto in January, it wouldn’t warrant a moment’s attention. Not enough to really stay on the ground. I tried to build a snowman and he ended up the size of a jam jar.

Winter here is, as you would expect, is not really cold. It’s just kind of chilly, wet, windy and a bit glum. Snow is a little known component of the overall milieu. But today had the proper winter feature of a nice coat of snow.

I found that as I walked the four minutes to the train station, I had a little spring in my step. The snow made it feel like it was truly winter. The nice clean coat of snow twinkled in the gathering light and also hid some of the dog poo on the pavements of West Hampstead.

The antipodeans at work were amazed by the snow. Coming from a warm climate, this was a new experience. They told stories of carefully picking their way over slushy sidewalks, not knowing how much traction would by afforded by this alien surface. Snow can be enjoyable especially if it’s new to you.

The Tube system, however did not enjoy the snow so much. It seems that snow is the kryptonite of any Tube signal. Every line was massively delayed due to “signal failures”. The Evening Standard, in its understated way, reported chaos and called for the heads of the transit system to fall on their knives.

By the time I got home this evening, it had, as you might expect, all melted. So please, spare me your offers of toboggans, shovels and snowshoes. It’s back to gray, cold and rainy. The real winter’s over.