It has been snowing in London for the past two days.

On the first day, I was in the Waterloo area when it happened - small snowflakes, almost invisible against the light sky, started drifting slowly down to the ground, buffeted about by the winds. People bent double as they tried to stay true to their intended course; I drew my hood over my head. Later, walking along the Strand with two other friends - after having viewed the Lunar New Year celebrations through the eyes of an Englishman at Chinatown, a rather surreal experience, I must say - we were overtaken by a snow cloud racing across the sky. Surrounded by eddies and swirls of snow, we took refuge in a Starbucks - the two of us who had regularly experienced winter (and snow) rather tickled by the reaction of the one who had not. In the evening, the snow steadily grew heavier and thicker - we stood by a window and watched the snow fall. I pointed out a spider's web, dotted with snow crystals; you attempted to make bad puns with amusing results.

On the second day, we were greeted by a whitened, crisp world. We took photographs of the snowscape; the snow was almost knee-deep in places, and crunched underfoot as we walked. We found ourselves choosing the same spots from which to take our photos, and you mused over my instinct to find the perfect angles. We spent the morning in the park, taking numerous photos of the clear brightness against dark grey, of others out to enjoy the rare and novel snowfall, of friends and hallmates gambolling about in the snow. Later, we trooped down to Starbucks, where I discovered the usefulness of coffee, and we had a small cultural exchange. Some of us began learning Cantonese; we later moved briefly on to dialects, Japanese and finally, Korean (whereupon the sole Korean teacher got rather embarrassed when asked about the meaning of some Korean swear words - which swear words we still don't know the meaning of, but that may not be a bad thing).

Walked back in the slush, still surrounded by billowing snowflakes, two hallmates racing around the rest, throwing snowballs at each other as we tried our best to duck and dodge the odd snowball-particle that would detach itself from the main snowball missile. Someone decided to pretend we were an army platoon - for the rest of the walk home, we were accompanied by the steady rhythm of 'retreat', 'enemy sighted', 'keep formation' and other similar 'commands'.

We returned to our hall with drenched jeans and shoes and cameras full of memories, new-minted.

I returned to my room, warm.

last - next