Snowmaggedon! The Beast From The East! Weatherbomb! Thundersnow! Baby, it is indeed cold outside, but why does everything have to be so dramatic these days?
A few falls of snow and the entire country convulses into a Corporal Jones state of utter panic.
The national reaction to bad weather has become so over-the-top, so histrionic, so completely shrill and mad that it is beyond all reason.
After all, we live in northern Europe, where — and I appreciate this may come as a shock to some people — it gets cold in winter. Sometimes white, wet flakes fall from the sky and that stuff is called snow.
The national reaction to bad weather has become so over-the-top, so histrionic, so completely shrill and mad that it is beyond all reason – mainly in the Capital City
I know it is called snow because every hour, on the hour, TV reporters in North Face anoraks and with red noses are sent out in blizzard conditions — correction, raging blizzard conditions — to point at the snow and tell everyone exactly how bad that snow is.
Weathermen and weatherwomen, newsreaders, disc jockeys and anyone within spitting distance of a public address system will take it upon themselves at regular intervals to urge citizens to take care, not slip on the ice and wear warm clothes, particularly if they are elderly.
All this nannying drives many people to distraction, including the Mail’s gardening writer Nigel Colborn.
‘Look! I’m 75. I can look after myself & do NOT need patronising announcers telling me to wrap up warm and watch my step,’ he roared on Twitter. He also pointed out that snow is not unusual at this time of year, and I am glad somebody finally did.
Of course, I know it is bad out there. Really bad in some areas. People have been stranded overnight in cars. Some roads are impassable. Trains have been cancelled, airports and schools closed
He said: ‘This is not ‘Snowmageddon’, it is normal February rubbish weather. This is the first snow we have had in South Lincolnshire all winter. That should worry people more.’
Of course, I know it is bad out there. Really bad in some areas. People have been stranded overnight in cars. Some roads are impassable. Trains have been cancelled, airports and schools closed.
On Wednesday night the centre of Glasgow was like a ghost town. In central Scotland my sister can’t get her car out of the drive, like many thousands of others.
Her husband is stuck in Manchester. My parents are snowed in, my father’s operation has been cancelled and my mother made mince and tatties before nine in the morning yesterday ‘in case the power goes off’.
People do just get on with it, especially in areas where heavy snowfalls are the winter norm
Not sure if I am following her logic there, but come rain or thundersnow there is no way my dad isn’t getting a hot meal put in front of him.
People do just get on with it, especially in areas where heavy snowfalls are the winter norm.
However, there are places where common sense flies out of the window when the first snowflake flies in. And when I say ‘places’, I think you all know that what I really mean is London.
Here in my beloved capital city, the inhabitants are not minded to cope quietly and nobly with adversity, even a tiny bit of adversity, without going absolutely bonkers.
On Wednesday night the centre of Glasgow was like a ghost town. In central Scotland my sister can’t get her car out of the drive, like many thousands of others
Pause a moment to consider that this is the same hardy place where, on this very night 74 years ago, 900 houses were damaged and 500 people made homeless in one of the last German offensives of the war.But next morning the milk was delivered, shops were opened and the city struggled on.
Today, there are emotional meltdowns if snow on the tracks means Piccadilly Line trains are running 15 minutes late. There were near-riots when The White Company ran out of cashmere hot water bottle covers, and Yummy Mums now triple-park outside school gates so Sophie doesn’t get her toddler snowboots wet.
On Wednesday morning, as I pulled on my own boots, my Londoner partner was aghast. ‘What are you DOING? Surely you’re not going to work in THAT?’ he cried, pointing outside, where a thin crust of snow edged the pavements.
Eh? Of course I am, I said.
Today, there are emotional meltdowns if snow on the tracks means Piccadilly Line trains are running 15 minutes late
‘Let me call you a taxi,’ he replied, afraid his darling might perish in the mighty blizzard before she reached the office a mile away.
I walked to work as planned — and it was beautiful. The sun shone, the city was hushed and quiet, there were no cyclists, few cars and at no point did I feel the need to panic-buy sliced bread and six pints of milk.
In north-east Scotland, I remember walking to primary school in far worse conditions with only a pair of ribbed woolly tights to protect me from certain death.
Now that Storm Emma is rushing in from the west to clasp the Beast From The East in a hideous embrace of wintriness that forecasters are calling a Red Warning risk of Extreme Weather (shriek), how will we cope?
In north-east Scotland, I remember walking to primary school in far worse conditions with only a pair of ribbed woolly tights to protect me from certain death
Southerners are advised not to travel unless their journey is absolutely essential, while Northerners are advised to put on a coat.
Back in 1947, a bitter wind from the north blew for a month without stopping.
Even Nigella Lawson was at it yesterday (left), looking ravishing in her fur hood, like a beauty out of Dr Zhivago
There was no sunshine for weeks, the temperature didn’t get above freezing for most of February. The Thames froze.
Big Ben was silenced as its mechanics seized up and the RAF had to drop food parcels in the Home Counties.
The Big Freeze of 1963 was perhaps even worse, with much of the country in the grip of one of the longest and coldest winters on record.
Today, a few days of bad weather and a kind of madness takes hold. If there is any slight weather-related hitch in the smooth progression of one’s day, people seem to regard it as a personal affront.
Heaven knows how they would cope with sustained cold spells like those of yesteryear, although there is the consolation of taking all those frosty selfies.
Even Nigella Lawson was at it yesterday, looking ravishing in her fur hood, like a beauty out of Dr Zhivago.
You see, there is a bright side to all this. The beautiful drifts, the hysteria, the muffled reporters, all the proud photographs of snowbound back gardens, even the OTT responses from the more fragile members of our community. I just love everything about it.
So let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. It is a winter wonderful, after all.
BRITS TAKE A HIT AS REAL HEALTH TOURISTS ESCAPE
The NHS has given a British expat couple a £40,000 bill for the cost of the emergency birth of their child.
Paul Barnes, 33, and his fiancée Sophie Henley, 25, live and work in Zambia. They were here on holiday, visiting family and friends in Devon, when son Archie arrived seven weeks early and was delivered by emergency C-section.
He weighed just 3lb and has been kept in intensive care ever since.
Paul Barnes and his pregnant fiancée were on holiday in the UK visiting family and friends when complications led to son Archie being delivered seven weeks early by emergency c-section
The couple said they couldn’t get insurance before travelling because Sophie was pregnant, though the baby was not due until mid-March.
Under the circumstances, it seems foolhardy of them to have proceeded with the trip.
Still, their treatment seems harsh, especially as the couple had paid taxes and NI contributions before leaving the UK. And, of course, they were in Britain perfectly legally.
With so many foreigners taking advantage of the NHS, enjoying a spot of health tourism en route to the nearest branch of Primark, it feels as if this poor couple are being made an example of.
While it’s good to see the NHS getting tough for a change, it would be nice if it could do so with more deserving cases.
STREISAND SENDS IN THE CLONES – BUT WHO’S NEXT?
Barbra Streisand cloned her dog, so that she could have new puppies who looked just like her beloved Samantha, who died last year.
Barbra Streisand cloned her dog, so that she could have new puppies who looked just like her beloved Samantha, who died last year
Of course she cloned her dog! I can’t think of a more Barbra Streisand thing to do — except to build a private street of shops in the basement of her Malibu home to house her collections of clothes and dolls, and she has already done that.
Samantha (above, with Barbra) was 14 when she died and was a particularly cute member of the fluffy, white-haired Coton de Tulear family.
It is estimated that the cloning process cost the singer around £70,000.
Now, Barbra is hoping that new pups Miss Scarlett and Miss Violet will grow up to have the same eyes and ‘serious nature’ as Samantha.
She has also added Miss Fanny to her puppy collection, a distant relative of her former pet.
However, ahem, the pups are not the only cute, fluffy, white-haired creatures roaming around Casa Streisand.
I wonder if Barbra has similar plans to clone hubby James Brolin when he pops off to that great ol’ film set in the sky? It wouldn’t be a shock if she did.
STONE ME KEEF IS A FAN OF THE BEATLES AFTER ALL
Rolling Stone Keith Richards had some kind words for the Beatles this week
Rolling Stone Keith Richards had some kind words for the Beatles this week. The old grizzler stuck up for the mop-tops after record producer Quincy Jones dismissed their talent as musicians.
‘Their songwriting was the real apex of what they did, rather than their musicianship. Their vocal harmonies were very strong. Some very interesting stuff went on there,’ Richards told the Daily Telegraph. The Stone damned the Beatles with faint praise by adding that their talents as instrumentalists were ‘definitely adequate’ — but how nice to see him defending his old rivals.
And when asked if the #MeToo movement exposing bad behaviour in Hollywood gave him any qualms about his own conduct in the past, he replied: ‘You’d have to ask the ladies. I’ve had no complaints.’
What a gent.
Put the champagne cork back — news that all of the Spice Girls are reforming could be premature.
Manager Simon Fuller hinted that any tour may consist of ‘four, not five’ Spices. Apparently, Posh is too busy designing hideous frocks.
Though I bet she won’t be too busy to go to Harry and Meghan’s wedding, if asked.
Adore the new 10p coins just released by the Royal Mint. The 26 designs are an A to Z of what makes Britain great, from the Angel of the North sculpture to zebra crossings.
B is for James Bond, C is for cricket, K is for King Arthur, T is for tea, and so on.
Excuse me, but is there going to be an outcry that no women feature on the male-centric coins, unless you count L for Loch Ness Monster? Or is it sexist and reductive to assume that Nessie is female?
I know another female Scottish beastie who could have appeared on one of the coins — but sadly S is for Stonehenge, not Sturgeon.