Two weeks in, and I am already more than used to the new schedule, new streets and new air. New pavement. In fact, so new I am still hesitant on setting a foot in them. The polished stone floors from the famous square nearby are borderline negligent of Health and Safety issues. But I just face it as a daily challenge of not falling on my face every morning. Perhaps it is a signal for me to resole my beloved boots.
The streaky purple and yellow sky of my first week abandoned its position, turning pitch dark until I reach Waterloo. Now the sky is turning grey-ish blue. My coat is still damp from the drops of rain that fell while crossing the slippery square. Rain that, in fact, felt heavier than normal. Not heavy in amount, but in weight. Heavy rain, often sign of some imminent weather event.
Minutes after boarding my train, I spot a few fellow commuters, rushing to grab their smart phone in order to capture the white landscape with their Instagrams and share it with boss, friends and partner. And so do I. And it is that while approaching those London affluent suburbs, nowhere near my first stop, I realise that the heavy water at around 4 degrees C, where it is in its higher density (hence the 'heavy' feeling), is now experimenting the expected density drop after the maximum peak of density, so while approaching the 0 degree figure, the plain old water is turning into fluffy opaque flakes.
It is snowing.
And as we passed the suburbs and the limits of Greater London, the white blanket is getting thicker and brighter, partly because the sun finally rose but it is hiding behind the greedy clouds. The train commenced emitting quite unusual scratching noises, and a strange glow flashes the trains and platforms as the train moves forward. It feels as though we were travelling in a giant limousine crossing Fifth Avenue in NY, followed by very persistent paparazzi flashing their camera. But is it the glow of the sparks. It is the sparks created by the friction between the train and the icy steel rails. Flashing lights.
There is barely a centimetre of snow, it is not even Winter yet.
But I am stuck somewhere near West Byfleet, at least 50 minutes late from the first stop.
I am still hopeful.
Until all my batteries die.
But I am back.
And I will have a lot of stories.