The thing about living in London is that there aren’t any great extremes of weather. Yes, it gets hot for a few weeks, the occasional whisper of ice frosts the ground, and sometimes there’s rainfall of tropical intensity.
But I sometimes long for the intensity of weather that I grew up with in Iceland, and got used to in Minneapolis – drastic swings from hot to bitter cold, high winds blasting off the North Atlantic…
The reason Icelanders talk endlessly about the weather is that we have so much of it. And we love to complain about it. But after living abroad all these years I’ve begun to miss spending the day out in the cold and rain, and the feeling of slipping into a hot pool afterwards. That, and the very good protective clothing I wore to survive my summer vacation.