As a Londoner snow was a rare treat, arriving like an unexpected romance and lasting just as long - I always loved it. Crisp air and dazzling sunshine, brisk walks in the park, sipping port in pubs with open fires, the shops invitingly lit up from within, cosy sundays watching old matinees.... winters were easy to enjoy.
That was then. In Poland the first snow signals four or five months of bitter sub-zero temperatures. The snow stays and the rocky pavements disappear under inches of ice and become deadly. Moronic motorists continue to tear through the unlit streets with no regard for anyone. There are no street cleaners. Polish winters are dirty, depressing and dangerous. I dread them.
