Frostbite Ate My Blackberry

It’s finally over. The snowman is reduced to a puddle in which two sticks and three bottle tops float, forlornly. If the trains aren’t running on time it’s only for all the usual reasons. Visits to HR directors can begin again without trying to force a pair of wellies into my briefcase. We are no longer jammed belly to belly with other commuters, trying to find somewhere to put our eyes. 

Post-thaw, though, the UK might justifiably be a little embarrassed. A bit like Auntie Mabel after one too many Christmas sherries, getting wound up by Uncle Ernie and throwing a badly-aimed punch at the dog. What was all the indignation about?   

Presumably the only way to keep all roads absolutely clear would have been to throw unbudgeted money at the problem. Then in six months’ time - with the snow thawed, and the panic forgotten - the resulting financial shortfall would mean more services would be cut, in a year when harsh winds will already be blowing through our public services - provoking more outrage.

It’s not a fashionable view I know, but when was ‘grin and bear it’ totally discredited as a strategy? Do Norwegian tabloids run headlines wailing ‘How come the UK can cope with dreary amounts of rainfall, and we can’t?’ Or is it that – like every other nation – there are some things we’re good at, and some things we’re not; and snow, being a relatively rare occurrence, is the latter? In short, snow stops stuff - but not for long. That’s what I’ve learnt. It may be glib, but better that than unrealistic. 

On one of the worst days, this guy stomped onto the platform in front of me, panting into his mobile phone, red-faced with cold, drenched, and bug-eyed with hassle. And then I heard him say: ‘Weeelll, could be worse. Did you see Haiti? Terrible. After all, snow melts. Earthquakes don’t.’

Now that’s what I call perspective.