Snow.

Heathrow cancelled almost 400 flights, trains were delayed, and panic ensued this weekend, as London was crippled by a fierce snowstorm that brought the city its first snow this year.

Now, based on the chaos it caused, you might be picturing something like this:

  

Notice that the ground floor apartments are barely visible...

But you would be wrong. That picture is the entrance to my apartment complex in Illinois after the Snowpocalypse that hit our area and surrounding states a couple of years ago. We got a foot of snow in one afternoon, and I still went to work the next day.

No, this was the snowfall that wreaked havoc throughout London over the weekend:

A whopping several inches. Enough snow to make a footprint, and yet somehow enough to cause Europe’s busiest airport to grind to a halt.

Still, snow does make London look particularly picturesque. My parents were in town, and we decided to brave the “blizzard” and play tourist while the rest of the city hid indoors. 

I’m glad we did, because this is what we saw:

Isn't it lovely? It certainly makes winter feel worthwhile.

 

I don't really like Mondays.

Monday gets a bad rap. No one really likes him (Monday is a male in my head). Poor guy. It's not his fault he's the first day back to reality after the weekend. But I've never really had a problem with Monday. I'm okay with getting up in the morning. I don't mind going to work. Monday is fine by me.

But not today.

Monday went all wrong for me today.  You see, I rely on two buses to get me to work. It usually takes about 40-45 minutes. That's fine, because I'm used to it, and it gives me time to read. Plus, it's actually quicker than the train.
  

But this morning, it was anything but quick. My first bus was 20 minutes late. Which meant that (because I get there about 10 minutes early, just in case) I was at the stop for half an hour. I was kind of okay with it though, because that bus only comes every 15 minutes, so I'm used to waiting for it. Plus, I still managed to get to the second bus stop by 8:35, so I figured I would make it in time.
 

This might be a good place to pause and explain that I seriously hate being late to anything. As in, I go out of my way to avoid it. As in, I plan well and I set loads of alarms.
  

And don't ask me why I never set my alarms
for regular times. I just don't.

So I'm waiting at the second bus stop expecting the bus to arrive any minute (because one comes every 8 minutes). And I'm waiting...and waiting...and waiting.
  

At this point, it's been 15 minutes, so I follow the instructions on the sign and text to find out when the next one is arriving. The reply says it will be another 13 minutes. What?? Not okay. I realize that there is no way I'll make it to work on time. Not only that, but I'm going to be seriously late.
  

Then I realize that I have no way of getting ahold of anyone from work to let them know what's going on. I semi-panic for about three minutes, and then text my housemate, begging her to look up the number for my workplace (because I don't have it, and since I spent a whopping £4 on my British phone, it doesn't have Internet capabilities). She heroically gets back to me with the number, and I call and let them know I'll be late. They're already well aware of this, as it's currently two minutes past when I'm supposed to be there, and I'm still standing at the bus stop. But at least I told them.

Finally, the bus arrives, and I get to work 30 minutes late. So I left my house at 7:40 and didn't get to work till 9:35. It was a super frustrating experience.

The point is, I don't really like Mondays anymore. At least not Monday mornings.

Hope your Monday went more smoothly than mine. 

  

Reading over shoulders.

I spend a lot of time on trains, so I figure I might as well get some reading done. The problem is, I don't currently have any books I haven't read. So I read other people's. 

Luckily, there's also a never ending supply of newspapers.

I like to see if I can figure out what book it is just by the first few sentences of wherever they happen to be in the story. I usually can't. But every so often, I figure it out before they turn the page.

After a while, I started keeping track. Here's some excerpts from what commuting Londoners are reading these days. See how many you recognize.

-----------------
He ought to have explained more fully about the Dementors, about how he had fallen over, about how both he and Dudley had nearly been kissed.

Maybe I'll do a shout-out to Willow.

Could she only bring herself to dispense with the lot of them?

More days than not, he's out there fighting someone.

"That's very broadminded of you."

Dozens of faces immediately buried themselves back in their work.

"Poor Liz," I say and I am suddenly overwhelmed with pity for her.

Si vous faites la moindre résistance, je vous tue avec les pistolets que voici.

"But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles."

As soon as Petra finished talking I stood up and took her in my arms.

She'd had to force herself to stick to the rules of the grounding.

I was beginning to feel very tired and emotional.

Crying is not an option.

Royce and Hadrian glanced nervously at each other.

"Even them," Professor Martin said, sounding sleepy from all the wine.

-----------------

I only knew like 3 out of all those, but I was still pretty proud. How many did you get? 

(And Googling is cheating, people).

 

  

On your mark, get set...

Here's a fun story from the Tube this morning. 

Right before a train leaves, an announcement will be made. "Please stand clear of the doors. This train is ready to depart." This happens every time any train leaves any platform, and it's always exactly the same.

So imagine my surprise today when this announcement came over the speakers: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Underground Olympic train races. Please stand clear of the doors, because the race is about to begin. Drivers, take your marks. Get set...go!"

And we were off. Everyone was smiling -- a rare occurrence during rush hour in Central London.

It was a nice little moment during an otherwise mundane commute. 

  

"If a smile like that is single, I'm throwing myself off this train."

Girls, we've all been there. You're alone, and somehow end up stuck in close proximity with a creeper of a guy who seems to be going out of his way to make you feel uncomfortable.

Today was my turn.

Now, I don't really like to be the center of attention. I'd rather just blend in and keep to myself. But apparently my crossed arms, averted gaze, and other please-just-leave-me-alone body language was a little misleading.


Two guys got on the train a couple stops down the line and sat down directly across from me, despite the fact the train was pretty much empty. One had a dog. It kind of lunged at me (in a friendly, non-threatening way), which essentially threw me into the spotlight. So they started talking about me (but not to me) -- things like "Oy, leave that lovely lady alone," etc. It got to the point where they were wondering out loud if I was married, and one of them actually said, "If a smile like that is single, I'm throwing myself off this train." 


And that's how he died.


Kidding. 

Anyway I tried to avoid actually speaking to them the whole time, because I figured that my American accent would just them more to talk about. The whole ordeal was super awkward. 

But something I've noticed is that creepy English men are often far more charming than creepy American men (even if it's just in their word choices), because they say things like, "Afternoon, my darling," or "There's something elegant about that one there," or "You are a gorgeous one, m'dear." 

And while it's true that that can also be super creepy, during the daylight it's not panic-inducing, and it's quite funny because it's so stereotypically British.

So even though I left that train thoroughly embarrassed, I also had to laugh.