On the Weather

It’s funny how we acclimatise to the, erm, climate. Walking to the station this morning in my boots, heavy coat, woolly hat and multiple layers of underwear, I suddenly recalled with a shock that not six months ago, I was making the same journey in short trousers and flip-flops. The change in the weather happens just slow enough that it never seems improbable or extreme. Like the descent into fascism, the change happens gradually enough to go without comment, and you begin to doubt your memories of a better time, a summer’s day. And then it snows and everyone goes nuts, as if it were somehow unexpected.