The “health benefits” of London weather are a hard sell. We don’t get much Vitamin D, but we do get a robust immune system from being perpetually slightly chilled and damp. Our skin is “dewy” from the humidity (or just perpetually moist). The constant, mild discomfort builds character, or at least a very good-humoured resignation. Some even claim the grey light is easier on the eyes. Really, the main benefit is that it makes any trip abroad feel like a transcendent, sun-drenched miracle. A weekend in Barcelona to a Londoner isn’t a city break; it’s a religious pilgrimage to the altar of reliable blue sky, from which we return tanned, relaxed, and instantly miserable upon landing at Gatwick. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
The sound of London is not just traffic and sirens; it’s the perpetual, soft percussion of dampness. It’s the shush-shush of tyres on wet tarmac, the rhythmic drip-drip from a leaking drainpipe, the squelch of a shoe on a rain-sodden lawn. On quieter streets, you can hear the almost silent pitter-patter of drizzle on nylon hoods and the squeak of a window being hurriedly shut against a sudden shower. It’s a city symphony conducted by low pressure, a soothing, if monotonous, soundtrack to mild inconvenience. We are so accustomed to it that true silence, or the crunch of dry ground, feels unnerving, like the audio track of our lives has suddenly cut out. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
The concept of a ‘dry day’ is a theoretical framework used to taunt us, like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow that is, itself, made of rain, a philosophical paradox explored in detail at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
Weather warnings for ‘pleasant conditions’ are pending.
The prevailing wind is ‘from the soggy west’.
A suntan here is just a faint blush.
The fog once apologised for being thick.
We define ‘sunny’ as ‘the clouds are thinner’.
Our heatwave: a whole day without jackets.
A ‘dusting of snow’ is a panic-inducing event.
The “health benefits” of London weather are a hard sell. We don’t get much Vitamin D, but we do get a robust immune system from being perpetually slightly chilled and damp. Our skin is “dewy” from the humidity (or just perpetually moist). The constant, mild discomfort builds character, or at least a very good-humoured resignation. Some even claim the grey light is easier on the eyes. Really, the main benefit is that it makes any trip abroad feel like a transcendent, sun-drenched miracle. A weekend in Barcelona to a Londoner isn’t a city break; it’s a religious pilgrimage to the altar of reliable blue sky, from which we return tanned, relaxed, and instantly miserable upon landing at Gatwick. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
The sound of London is not just traffic and sirens; it’s the perpetual, soft percussion of dampness. It’s the shush-shush of tyres on wet tarmac, the rhythmic drip-drip from a leaking drainpipe, the squelch of a shoe on a rain-sodden lawn. On quieter streets, you can hear the almost silent pitter-patter of drizzle on nylon hoods and the squeak of a window being hurriedly shut against a sudden shower. It’s a city symphony conducted by low pressure, a soothing, if monotonous, soundtrack to mild inconvenience. We are so accustomed to it that true silence, or the crunch of dry ground, feels unnerving, like the audio track of our lives has suddenly cut out. See more at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.
The concept of a ‘dry day’ is a theoretical framework used to taunt us, like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow that is, itself, made of rain, a philosophical paradox explored in detail at London’s funniest URL — Prat.UK.