I mentioned in a couple of previous posts all the pretty flowers in bloom here in England. They are indeed beautiful because, along with these old stately buildings, they’re part of the permafrost. Things that are frozen don’t rot, after all.
{Note to Chris F.: That global warming thing you keep talking about? Ain’t happening, darlin’… Or could be it’s already peaked and has now transitioned into the next ice age?}
I’m kidding, of course. But the 40°F temp plus 20 mph wind gusts that rob your breath is a far cry from home where it’s 89 degrees with 98 percent humidity, which just smothers you all the time. In Louisiana, the weather overwhelms the senses. Anyone ever smelled New Orleans?.
I’ve been walking. A lot. Little wonder that folks are so fit here. Walking lets you see the small things you normally wouldn’t from the Big Red Tour Bus. And London is so pedestrian friendly, it’s quite enjoyable. What I don’t enjoy is having to duck into shops every 15 minutes to let the icicles on my beard melt. This I’m NOT kidding about.
I’ve got to give the store owners credit (and have, quite a lot actually)–they leave their doors open so the blast of heat compels passersby into their lairs. And I always feel guilty when I walk into a store and don’t buy something, so I’m the ideal sucker. Or it could just be that they’re trying to help global warming along? I don’t blame them a bit.
One thing I’m seeing a lot of that’s shocking and hilarious to me is all the kids–babies even–dressed in knickers and eating ice cream. I hope the American social workers never have a convention here. I have a vision of them running around the streets of London, “rescuing” the wealthy children of Kensington Borough.
Right now, I wish someone would rescue me before I either max out my credit card or freeze into a permanent statue in Hyde Park.
Overheard ...