I’d hate to be in London during an actual disaster. If a few centimetres of snow can shut down the capital’s transport network, grind its roads to a halt and unleash pandemonium in the bakery aisles of its supermarkets, then what would an EMP or an energy crisis cause? And why is it always the bread that gets looted first?
One thing is certain, though – neither an EMP nor a power shortage would be greeted with the masses of ecstatic social media posts snow frequently meets with. Against the backdrop of a paralysed city, Londoners enthusiastically embrace the white flakes as an old friend, returning from some long journey far away (Siberia, in this case). The same effect occurs almost anywhere in the country – I suppose our regular British weather is just that dull – however it’s much more interesting in London, where the contrast between childish glee and adult frustration is more prevalent than ever. Snow really is that friend that we keep hanging around with despite hating nearly everything about them.
We might mock the transport providers in the city for being undone by a light dusting of snow, yet the stuff can truly create issues. Coupled with the effect the colder temperatures have on vehicle engines (take trying to start your family car three or four times on a winter’s morning and multiply it by hundreds, maybe thousands) and the no-doubt icy conditions of the roads, things do fall to a crawl. Even if you brush off the public transport network and bravely hoof it to wherever you need to go, there’s guaranteed to be at least one part of your path that’s all iced over. If you’re exceptionally unlucky, the snow will be hiding the icy patches. There’s no betrayal like stepping on lovely snow only to end up with your face on the ground – in public – moments later.
Despite all the inconvenience and the pain, I’d still bet most people feel a childlike delight at waking up to fresh snowfall. Perhaps due to the fact it’s so rare in this country, snow has almost acquired a mystical quality; the world and everything in it seems to behave a little differently when snow’s around. It might not make everybody happier, but it certainly gets a reaction from people, best verified by a (predictably lengthy) post I saw earlier complaining about how people won’t shut up about the snow. Snow always has an impact, it seems.
What I’ve found interesting, however, is how often the people I speak to claim that seeing ‘blankets’ (I guess it’s a blanket as long as it covers something) of snow makes them feel cosy and snug. I hope I don’t have to tell you that if you go lie down in a field of snow, you’ll be anything but cosy and snug. Being made up of ice, warmth isn’t one of snow’s greatest qualities. What these people probably mean to say is that snow makes them comfortable when it’s outside, and they’re in some idyllic log cabin with warm food and drink near a fire (or in their room with the heating on, more likely). Our normal circumstances are made far more desirable when they’re contrasted with the icy landscape outside. In other words, snow has endeared itself to us through its negative characteristics. We love the cold snow because it reminds us how nice our warm buildings are.
Running with this idea, every snowfall becomes as horrible as slipping in public. Snow brings comforting thoughts, but they’re only comforting against the inconvenience and frustration of icy surfaces and bitterly chill winds – snow solves problems of its own creation. It is the worst friend ever.
Still, no reason to not enjoy the snow. Talk about it all you want, too. What is social media for if not chatting about what you’re thinking about?