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Sep. 22nd, 2004 02:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i_kenderI woke up freezing yesterday morning because the gas had run out. And it was one of those days when I couldn't get out of bed for ages because it was so cold. And yes, I'm a hot-blooded Bahraini who still feels cold way before anyone else despite having lived here for half my life. But surely I'm not alone in this... why is it when this time of year rolls round, when it starts getting chillier at night and biting with the suggestion of frost early in the morning, when the rain starts to pack a punch... why is it that every year the cold starts to snap back, I am surprised?
It always takes a conscious effort on my part to recall what winter here in England is like. In some ways, the transition is similar to when I travel between Bahrain and England... a paradigm shift between worlds, rather than just the weather changing.
The UK is *different* in winter. You need to experience a British winter to understand how the climate has shaped national identity and culture... the sense of humour, lack of expressiveness, seasonal affective disorder. Now, I'm not suggesting that it's anything like countries where they suffer from long periods of sunlessness, where there are higher incidents of depression and suicide. But coming from the Middle East, close to the equator, the time of sunset doesn't vary that much... only by about an hour all year round.
Here in England, things are different. And that's one of the things that affected me strongly when I first moved here... waking to darkness, trudging across frosty grass that crunched underfoot, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on icy patches, or squidging semi-frozen slugs... going to school and sitting through lessons in classrooms only dimly lit by the bleak, weak winter sun... and then stepping out to go home only to find that what little light there had been during the day was gone.
Brrrr!
Not that winter is all bad... I'll never forget my first snowfight for instance.
But still... winter is coming. Dark days ahead. Better wrap up warm.
I recommend warm tomato soup with plenty of pepper.
It always takes a conscious effort on my part to recall what winter here in England is like. In some ways, the transition is similar to when I travel between Bahrain and England... a paradigm shift between worlds, rather than just the weather changing.
The UK is *different* in winter. You need to experience a British winter to understand how the climate has shaped national identity and culture... the sense of humour, lack of expressiveness, seasonal affective disorder. Now, I'm not suggesting that it's anything like countries where they suffer from long periods of sunlessness, where there are higher incidents of depression and suicide. But coming from the Middle East, close to the equator, the time of sunset doesn't vary that much... only by about an hour all year round.
Here in England, things are different. And that's one of the things that affected me strongly when I first moved here... waking to darkness, trudging across frosty grass that crunched underfoot, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on icy patches, or squidging semi-frozen slugs... going to school and sitting through lessons in classrooms only dimly lit by the bleak, weak winter sun... and then stepping out to go home only to find that what little light there had been during the day was gone.
Brrrr!
Not that winter is all bad... I'll never forget my first snowfight for instance.
But still... winter is coming. Dark days ahead. Better wrap up warm.
I recommend warm tomato soup with plenty of pepper.
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-23 10:18 am (UTC)Gods, yes. The new book, the one coming out, actually has a prologue set in January 1979. Dear heavens, that was cold; we went to Cornwall, to see friends in St. Ives, at Christmas, and got stuck because Devon and Dorset were snowed in. London was all icy wet needles of sleet.
I was three months pregnant, wretched, and if I'm fool enough to try it, I can close my eyes and still call that winter and how it felt up in my memory circuits.