© Katherine De Vere 2023
The weather in London is remarkable…remarkable in that it is nearly always grey and rainy. The rain in England could be likened to the constant whining of a snuffling child, the insistent dripping of a faulty tap or the persistent phlegmy cough in one with a weakened chest. In short, it is damp, perennially, consistently damp. Clothes take months to dry, moisture leaks into surprising places with no provocation, mould materializes like nuisance weeds and windows are continually a-fug with steam. In this blessed Albion, it drizzles incessantly, when, where a few seconds previously there might have been a patch of blue, the glooming clouds reorder and once more begin to spit disdainfully upon the suffering populace.
The colour black is ‘de rigueur’ too. A fact, I observed whilst seated on the city train and looking about me, noticing that the majority of citizens favoured apparel in this colour, (or in like subdued tones) perfectly reflecting the glum environment. Interesting? Have a look next time you are out.
The London code of silence, that is, ignoring as many as your fellow humans as possible, particularly on the Tube, bus or street was fully demonstrated, when I, rested momentarily on a bench in the Kings Road. Approached by an unprepossessing pug-in-a-rug, the creature attempted to pee on my shoe. “Oi!” I protested as the said offender was yanked away by its owner; a costly-coated woman clutching a bottle of expensive champagne. The pet’s proprietor declined all eye contact, ignored me and continued to march in a westerly direction, nose-in-air – and I am not referring to the dog