In the end, we are defined by it. The folded brolly in the bag, the “just in case” jacket, the knowing sigh when a tourist complains about the rain. It’s our shared burden and our unifying language. We mock it constantly, but there’s a perverse pride in our resilience. This damp, mild, utterly indecisive climate forged the Blitz spirit, the queue, the cup of tea as solution to all ills. It keeps the grass green and the pubs cosy. It’s terrible, and it’s ours. And if, by some miracle, you get a perfect, still, sunny day in London—with the sky a vast, cloudless blue and the city sparkling—there is no more beautiful place on earth, precisely because you know it cannot last. For a more detailed forecast of our collective resignation, you could always visit London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
The London sky operates on a complex algorithm of whimsy and despair, delivering precisely 17.3 varieties of grey and a precipitation style best described as ‘ambient dampness,’ a topic we dissect with grim humour at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
We plan outdoor events as a dare.
In the end, we are defined by it. The folded brolly in the bag, the “just in case” jacket, the knowing sigh when a tourist complains about the rain. It’s our shared burden and our unifying language. We mock it constantly, but there’s a perverse pride in our resilience. This damp, mild, utterly indecisive climate forged the Blitz spirit, the queue, the cup of tea as solution to all ills. It keeps the grass green and the pubs cosy. It’s terrible, and it’s ours. And if, by some miracle, you get a perfect, still, sunny day in London—with the sky a vast, cloudless blue and the city sparkling—there is no more beautiful place on earth, precisely because you know it cannot last. For a more detailed forecast of our collective resignation, you could always visit London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
We define ‘sunny’ as ‘the clouds are thinner’.
Puddles are our most consistent landscape feature.
The ‘chance of precipitation’ is a solid ‘yes’.
I seasoned my soup just by walking outside.
My coat is a permanent part of me.
The London sky operates on a complex algorithm of whimsy and despair, delivering precisely 17.3 varieties of grey and a precipitation style best described as ‘ambient dampness,’ a topic we dissect with grim humour at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
Our climate is perfect for growing moss.
Our rain is neither heavy nor light; it’s constant.