3rd time around
We're coming into our third winter in England.
Growing up in Sydney I spent my summer holidays at the local swimming pool. Summers were long and hot and humid with fantastically amazing thunderstorms. Some nights after it had been over 45 degrees for days on end, it would be so hot in our little fibro house with no air-conditioning and only one ceiling fan in the lounge room that we would sleep in the lounge with the front door and all the windows wide open - just to get some respite.
The tar on the road outside our house would bubble and stick to the bottom of our thongs. We'd stick a hose on the trampoline at our next door neighbours house and make an impromptu mini swimming pool. We'd get the slip'n'slide out in the backyard and lather it up with soap and slide around everywhere on it. We'd take the inners of truck tyres and styro-foam boards down to the river after school and brave the moving sands, submerged logs and deep holes and paddle around in the not-so-murky waters of the Hawkesbury River, watching the brave teenage boys jump off the bridge and swing from ropes attached to trees into the water.
I'd wear the same swimming cozzie day after day and be as brown as a berry by the end of summer with freckles all over my nose and natural blonde streaks in my brown hair.
We'd play outside until midnight on the weekends around the streets with the rest of the kids in the neighbourhood whilst our parents sat outside on the front lawns in folding chairs drinking beers and West Coast coolers listening to Tom Jones and Foster and Allen.
It seemed to last forever.
Ah, summertime in Sydney in the 80's.
But I digress.
You would think with all this summertime nostalgia that I would be dreading the cold, grey, misty and dreary England winters. But on the contrary. It's just starting to get cold again now. Yesterday for the first time I wore gloves, scarf and a winter coat to work. Last week I wore knee-high boots for the first time. My heating has been on every day for the past week. But as the darkness comes earlier and the frost settles thicker there is a slight feeling of anticipation in the air.
Winter in London is gorgeous. I can't wait to wake up in the morning, open the blind on our loft window to find that snow has piled up on it overnight. I'm really looking forward to deciding which ice-skating rink I'm going to try out this winter. I can't wait to feel all cosy and rugged up with layers of wool and gloves and boots and scarf and a hat whilst walking outside with the air all crisp and the sun shining to coming home to a warm centrally heated house and hot chocolate!
I love not feeling guilty about staying indoors and watching cooking shows and recorded tv shows and dvds all day long then cooking a big hearty dinner with gourmet sausages and mashed potato and gravy and drinking loads of red wine by candlelight.
They've starting putting up the beginning of the Christmas lights on Oxford Street already. And the lights in Regent St will go up soon and they are also just gorgeous!
It's such a nice time of year. My only wish is that, come the end of February when it's meant to be kicking over into spring that it gets real warm, real fast! Because there's nothing worse than a winter that won't go away.
Growing up in Sydney I spent my summer holidays at the local swimming pool. Summers were long and hot and humid with fantastically amazing thunderstorms. Some nights after it had been over 45 degrees for days on end, it would be so hot in our little fibro house with no air-conditioning and only one ceiling fan in the lounge room that we would sleep in the lounge with the front door and all the windows wide open - just to get some respite.
The tar on the road outside our house would bubble and stick to the bottom of our thongs. We'd stick a hose on the trampoline at our next door neighbours house and make an impromptu mini swimming pool. We'd get the slip'n'slide out in the backyard and lather it up with soap and slide around everywhere on it. We'd take the inners of truck tyres and styro-foam boards down to the river after school and brave the moving sands, submerged logs and deep holes and paddle around in the not-so-murky waters of the Hawkesbury River, watching the brave teenage boys jump off the bridge and swing from ropes attached to trees into the water.
I'd wear the same swimming cozzie day after day and be as brown as a berry by the end of summer with freckles all over my nose and natural blonde streaks in my brown hair.
We'd play outside until midnight on the weekends around the streets with the rest of the kids in the neighbourhood whilst our parents sat outside on the front lawns in folding chairs drinking beers and West Coast coolers listening to Tom Jones and Foster and Allen.
It seemed to last forever.
Ah, summertime in Sydney in the 80's.
But I digress.
You would think with all this summertime nostalgia that I would be dreading the cold, grey, misty and dreary England winters. But on the contrary. It's just starting to get cold again now. Yesterday for the first time I wore gloves, scarf and a winter coat to work. Last week I wore knee-high boots for the first time. My heating has been on every day for the past week. But as the darkness comes earlier and the frost settles thicker there is a slight feeling of anticipation in the air.
Winter in London is gorgeous. I can't wait to wake up in the morning, open the blind on our loft window to find that snow has piled up on it overnight. I'm really looking forward to deciding which ice-skating rink I'm going to try out this winter. I can't wait to feel all cosy and rugged up with layers of wool and gloves and boots and scarf and a hat whilst walking outside with the air all crisp and the sun shining to coming home to a warm centrally heated house and hot chocolate!
I love not feeling guilty about staying indoors and watching cooking shows and recorded tv shows and dvds all day long then cooking a big hearty dinner with gourmet sausages and mashed potato and gravy and drinking loads of red wine by candlelight.
They've starting putting up the beginning of the Christmas lights on Oxford Street already. And the lights in Regent St will go up soon and they are also just gorgeous!
It's such a nice time of year. My only wish is that, come the end of February when it's meant to be kicking over into spring that it gets real warm, real fast! Because there's nothing worse than a winter that won't go away.
posted by Melissa at
8:55 AM
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