Slip 'n' slide

Like much of the South East of England, I woke up yesterday to be confronted by six inches of snow covering everything. Also like much of the country, I was stranded at home as buses were pulled out of service and the tube pretty much shut down. Unlike much of the country, I was actually forced to work from home much of the day after my planned page for this week got pulled in favour of something a little more seasonal.

Now, it's one thing when you're stuck in an office and can't go and play in the snow but it's another wholly torturous thing when you're faced with oodles and oodles of virgin snow in your back garden, just waiting to be lobbed, rolled into snow men and snow-angeled in.



Just look at it! But gallantly, I struggled on and on with my work until it had got dark and every last bit had been finished. And then finally, we got to go and run around and be twenty-five going on five. Unfortunately, the boyfriend has far better aim and throwing skills than I do, so it was me who ended up with snow everywhere, while I only nailed him in the face once.

We also tried rolling snow men but both made our respective balls so big that there was no way we could lift them and instead we ended up with snow blobs.



On the treacherous walk to the station (buses in our area were still dubious), we saw plenty of artful snow men although I think my favourite has to go to the snow men I shall christen 'Saudi and the Tiny-head':



They were almost enough to make me fall on my ass on the ice, which was plentiful and made our walk double the time and we slid along the pavements with alarming regularity. Nothing like a little threat of falling on one's ass to get the blood pumping, it must be said.

The weather and Westfield

The cold snap that's been making itself gradually known all week has finally, for want of a better word, snapped. As I left work tonight, an almighty drenching greeted me and just as I put up my rickety emergency umbrella it naturally only got worse and turned into full on thunder and lightening. Fun times when you're holding what is a metal framed invitation to bolts of the latter.

This of course was also the night I decided to take home loads of stuff that I've been accumulating. Heavy stuff. That meant I had to plod at snails pace all the way to the station, holding my crappy umbrella in place after it blew out approximately 20 seconds after I put it up.

And now, it's snowing outside. I didn't quite believe it at first but it's starting to settle which is both good and bad. Bad in that it means its officially cold (and probably slushy) but good in that I now have a legitimate reason to wear my Uggs to work. I'll have to carry normal shoes with me for work but once there, I'll just conveniently forget that my feet are snuggly and warm. Oh yes.

And now, onto more important things than the weather. Ladies and gents, in 35 hours, the biggest city mall in Central Europe opens. Welcome to Westfield London; 256 shops, 50 food outlets and conveniently 10 minutes drive from my house.

I must confess that at heart, I am a Mallrat. Whenever I am in the States, I love nothing more than wandering around the giant Meccas of spending that dominate the landscape. I know I sound shallow but it gives me a mindless type of joy to wander from shop to shop for hours, and then sate my appetite with Panda Express. Okay, so Westfield won't have a Panda Express but I'm sure that somewhere in the fifty eateries, I'll find an acceptable alternative.

Roll on, Thursday.

Minor Grievance #372

So, my sunny mood could only last so long and appropriately enough disappeared as soon as the actual sun did and the skies opened up. One thing I will never understand is why people in London insist on carrying giant umbrellas in town. I could forgive it if there were four people jammed underneath it but when there's one very smug banker under an umbrella with a diameter of 2 metres, I begin to see red.

These tossers take up the entire pavement as they stroll slowly along while everyone has to veer sharply out of their way for fear of having an eye poked out by a spoke and ends up in six inches of flooded gutter water.

And then, they get on the tube and insist on carrying the thing under their arm with the sharp pointy metal capped bit sticking out a foot behind them. And of course, they forget about this potential weapon and either swing round and inevitably clock you square in the face (particularly if you're short like me) or pump it with great vigour as they walk, causing those behind them to do a dodging dance the entire way.

Walking to and from various stations today, I was almost stabbed six times, got smacked in the shoulder and then got stuck behind a banking moron who was braying into his crackberry about his lovely weekend in the Cotswolds while twirling his navy and maroon golfing umbrella in his hand, spraying all those around him with even more rain water. But he was dry, so that's okay.

People, if you live in a city, buy a small folding umbrella. Not only will you no longer have the threat of litigation that knocking someone's front teeth out brings looming over you; you will also cease to be a twat in my eyes.

The Barometer of Shoe

I have finally had the first glimmer of hope that spring might actually, er, spring at last. Yesterday, for the first time this year, I wore ballet pumps without my toes turning blue or soggy. Of course, my enthusiasm was short lived when it rained this morning, forcing me back into my boots but by lunchtime the rain had shifted and my legs were baking. Thankfully, I had a random pair of plimsolls under my desk and after sharing my roasted tootsies with everyone, I was relieved of my leather sweat chambers.

I don't want to jinx it but it's meant to be nice for the rest of the week. Fingers crossed - it's about time we had some decent park-dwelling weather and an excuse to break out the spring-summer wardrobes.

Momma's a spend thrift

So, being broke, I'm not meant to spend money. But the recent cold weather drove me to seek the comfort of the giant Topshop for the improbable purchase of new sunglasses. Despite the blistering cold for the last 48 hours, the sun was out for most of today and the spring-like feeling drove my craving for the Oliver Peoples sunglasses that we have in the cupboard in the overdrive. Since they're somewhere around £200, I figured I'd be better off getting Topshop knock-offs. I didn't buy the ones I wanted because they didn't have them. Logic would dictate it's best to wait patiently for a new stock delivery but let's face it, this is Topshop and chances of getting hold of a pair are slim-to-none.

So instead, I bought these babies:



I thought that the oversized vintage feel needed to be presented in black and white, although the glasses are actually a dark brown. I'm now hoping for a reprieve from the snow yesterday:



Today was better but still icily cold. I don't mind that much, as it means I have a legitimate excuse to wear Uggs to work.

Lessons from a cold snap

In that true British tradition, tonight's first awkward topic is the weather. It's far too cold. This morning as I walked to the station I watched my hands turn from normal to red and then finally, blue (my first mistake of the day, no gloves). It wasn't any better during the day and by the evening, I was considering payin £10 for a cab home, just purely to avoid the biting chill of the great outdoors. My stupidity in not following through with the idea was magnified when I had to sprint for a bus on the way from the tube station. I would like to point out that I am what some would say 'not the sporting type' and they're right. I don't run if I don't have to and even the I have to pause and think about it. To top it off, I had leather soled boots on - not ideal when running on icy pavements.

It was so cold that it felt like I a human throat kebab as I ran to make the bus. That harsh, rasping hateful pain that only running in the cold quickly made itself apparent and I spent the entire bus journey - with it's sudden heat - trying to restore my lungs and throat before facing the cold walk home at the other end.

It's not been a good day. So tomorrow, no matter what, I'll be wearing my toastiest uggs. I will not run for a bus again, albeit in the rubber soled gods of cosiness. No, I will walk, wrapped in far more layers and with GLOVES.

And tomorrow we'll probably suffer a sudden unexplainable heat wave.

The Perfect(ly Horrible) Storm

As you may or may not know, the UK was hit by a huuuuuuge storm that made the entire transport and road system grind to a halt, cause £1billion worth of damage and sadly, killed 11 people. I know that a storm in America recently killed 50 but in terms of ratio, you can fit Britain into California three times over and still have some spare fields, so 11 is a much higher micro percentage than 50 in comparison to population levels.

I found the tree in the picture was blown over on the route I that I walk most days; having given up waiting for a bus in the standstill traffic, I braved the winds and rain to walk home that night. I can't say that it was still standing in the morning as I'd chickened out and wisened up, catching the bus instead of schlepping on foot as I didn't want to look like I'd washed up to work on a tidal wave.

Thursday was the most amazing day. To cut a long story short, I called in and styled my own mini shoot for the magazine where I'm doing work experience, the offer of which blew me away last week. Subsequently, I became too superstitious (sp?) about to mention to most people, even my mother, until the night before the shoot. The experience was truly unbelievable and I had so much fun all day that I was fit to burst when I finally rolled through the door that night. Not even the cramped and damp tube ride home could keep the smile from its position, plastered across my face like the local loon.

Enough simpering like a love struck teenager. Normal service will resume shortly.

Can't see, shan't see.

The last few days have been blisteringly cold. We're talking a drop from 12°C on Monday to -2°C today. The sudden cold has also brought on a thick, soup-like fog that makes driving anywhere a bitch as there's always some knob who thinks he can still break the national speed limit but ends up rear ending someone else who isn't. Cue horrific traffic everywhere. The M25 around Bluewater Shopping Centre in Kent was described by one caller to Capital FM as "Just like Independence Day when everyone tries to leave town...Just not moving at all." I know the picture above doesn't really show the extent of the fog but I didn't want my neighbours to think I was a nutter taking pictures of them so I couldn't use flash.

However, the cold does have benefits. Such as this frozen spiderweb that was hanging outside the back entrance to my office.



I figured it would melt before my next cigarette break but the temperature stayed firmly around zero and I could come out and marvel at it a little more. Unfortunately, there was no way to photograph it without an ugly background. It was a green door or concrete. I chose the green door, figuring it was as close to greenery as we were going to get in the concrete jungle that is my workplace.