It really is winter in London. This week saw the worst snow for two decades, transport chaos, wartime camaraderie and even igloos being built in London parks. The snow is almost gone, a few slushy piles of ice are all that remain, and I am grateful for:
1. The excitement of awaking to a snow-covered street outside, and the gentle trudge in wellies through fresh, powdery snow on Monday.
2. Cycling over sheets of ice covering the road that break and splinter as my tyres move over it.
3. Eating winter food. Pies and roast chicken and soup and wedges of cheese. Yum.
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