London. Is. Cold.
When I first arrived (in the Summer, might I add), I was surviving quite well wearing just shorts, a light cardigan, a t-shirt & flip flops (havianas, or thin sandal-type shoes), this (minus the light cardigan) is normal wear where I come from for about 90% of the year, and as a result, I was simply not used to 'wrapping up'. Lucky for me, 2009 was a relatively warm year - but in mid November, where the temperatures dropped rapidly, the heavens opened, and people started to pile on layers - I was *still* slipping around in shorts, a light cardigan, a t-shirt & flip flops.
For the first week or so, that's funny, Europeans smile at you fondly and look as though they want to give you a pat on the head for being 'the cute silly Australian who doesn't understand cold'. I did understand, it was freezing. But I couldn't contemplate wearing anything else! Gloves and scarves felt restrictive and foreign, coats made me look fat, this was fashion suicide!
By the beginning of December I had given in a bit, and invested in a coat & stockings, 1 scarf and some cheap plimsolls. I put off buying boots and gloves until it snowed. I had my heater on most of the time (sorry Earth & landlords) and played a new favourite game 'summer' (where you lie around inside wearing summer clothes and pretending it's warm outside too). By doing this, I avoided dying of exposure to the cold, but eventually, the consequences still caught me. One cold, January morning, I awoke to find a few red, pox-like spots on my neck, arms, stomach. A friend (on holiday from Australia) was staying with me, and when she surveyed them she assumed I had chicken pox (a second batch). But considering she showed no symptoms, I thought it best to drag my sorry, freezing self to the doctor and get a real diagnosis.
The result? Put simply: I did not protect my virgin Australian skin from the cold well enough, and so, it had begun to eat itself.
Looking back I can laugh, but these spots were unsightly and itchy as hell. I had to take allergy tablets to stop the itching, use a special soap to stop the swelling, and go on steroids to kill the infection. It went, and all was well within about a fortnight, but let this be a warning to you. I have compiled a list of things you NEED in winter in London. Do as I say, not as I did!
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Survival list for new Londoners
- Coats
- Thermal underwear, vests, pj's
- 100 Denier stockings
- Scarves
- Gloves (I had particular issues wearing gloves, please, forget any hangups!)
- Boots (fur lined inner, leather outer is best, but I survived on cheap £20 synthetic ones for most of winter)
- Beanies/Berets/something warm for the head
- Shoes with good grip (Ice is a slippery bastard)
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Keep warm. Have the heater on full blast, experience mulled wine (oh, yum). Do whatever makes you feel comfortable, because when you go out (and to experience London, you need to go out), you won't be comfortable. Also take the cold weather as a good reason to visit the art galleries, museums & shops, they'll all have heating on full blast and make it all a little more bearable. I reccomend heading to Covent Garden for shopping, and to the National Portrait gallery, I could spend all day in there.
Above all though (and contrary to the vibe of this post), don't panic, and enjoy the refreshing cold. London can't deal with high temperatures (they know no such thing as ventilation) and you'll be wishing it was sub zero degrees come July.
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Aside from this, I have been focusing on some of my favourite London views recently. Average daily temperatures are at about 9.C here are the moment, and the sun begins to rise at about 6.50am and sets at about 4.45pm (more or less my working day). This means SAD disorder is affecting us all a little, but it also means I am at work as the sun rises, and I am spoilt with this view:
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| Sunrise as seen from EC1V 1NY |
In Europe, the light & atmosphere is completely different to that in Australia. In Australia, I remember the light as harsh, warm and omnipresent. European light is soft, subtle, and borders on melancholy, this makes for beautiful, slightly austere photographs that simply ooze a cold, dark day. A week or so ago I took a walk down a freezing, deserted Portobello Road (a favourite thing of mine to do, as you may know from this post) and took a picture that serves as a pretty good example:
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| A quiet Portobello Road |
I am off to Paris this weekend again, and the weather looks to be awful. I'm taking my own advice and putting coats, stockings and boots in my luggage, and planning to stay indoors most of the time (le copain and I have shopping and church-visiting on the cards, possibly the cinema too). A bientôt!
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