Published on 4 December 2008 in , , , ,

There’s not many times when I don’t feel a pang, a wish to live outside London. But there’s a regular one, round about this time of year.

It’s when the snow begins. And frankly it doesn’t help when Lee starts posting photos of white topped hills in the lakes.

I love clomping through big files of snow, walking up hills, watching my feet disappear into a big pile of the white stuff. And you don’t get that in London.

Statutory "It's snowing in April" photos

London is one of the most depressing places in Britain for snow. The root of the problem is obviously that there just isn’t much of it. In London you wake up in the morning, shout “Oh! Snow!” excitedly and can’t wait to rush out of the door in the morning, only to find that in the hour its taken you to get ready for work and leave the house, all the snow has gone leaving just a wet, slushy puddle at the end of the drive because there was only about 5mm of it in the first place.

And it’s gone because of, ultimately, people – there’s just too many people in London for snow to last very long before its all tramped over and melted. Too much heat, too much fuss.

No chances of schools being closed due to snow in London. The tube points will probably freeze, but that’s about your limit.

No. It’s one of the sacrifices one must make for living in the capital. But being surrounded by great museums, brilliant theatres, the opportunity to actually have a decent career, and the ability to trapse into Tate Modern and Tate Britian as often as you want, well sometimes I feel like I’d give it all up, just for a little more snow.

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