Winter in Liverpool

When the cold hits in England, it truly hits home. While in Belgium you can more or less ignore it til the start of December, at least, everyone has been complaining about the weather since the start of November, if not even from before. Cold is different here. Cold is more penetrating, more icy, more encompassing. I have been wearing the standard two pairs of socks since the start of the month and when I plan on staying at the library I always take my hoodie as an extra layer against the slumbering cold. I am yet to come into a house where there is not a hint of a draught coming from the windows or the door, creeping up on you while you are watching tv or reading a book. My house in particular is absolutely freezing during the day, as we only put on the central heating between 5 and 9 at night (and 5 and 7 in the morning, but I am never awake at those times and therefore my heating is never on). Before I left, my good friend Lance gave me a blanket-sized fleece and whenever I want to watch some tv in the lounge I trail it along, covering myself up and trying to hide my frosty toes underneath of one of the pillows. The cold is so bad that I barely eat, as it means getting out from underneath of the covers and making myself some supper. Which means I am of course even colder, as I have no energy to burn. And the winter has only just started. You can imagine how grateful I am to myself for taking my dressing home back with me on my last trip to Belgium. It has kept me warm on many a day in the past few weeks.

Today was the first day I had to face the dreaded English rain. I must say, it is not as bad as Belgian rain (English rain is either heavy or light, Belgian rain is a standard drizzle, soaking you through and through in a matter of minutes but still not heavy enough to take shelter), but the wind makes it almost unbearable. I had to bike from the university to the Jobcentre and then home (all in all about 30 minutes), and boy, was I cold and wet when I came home. And I couldn't dry my clothes on the heating as the boiler wasn't on til about three minutes ago. I can only hope my shoes will dry out nice and clean and will not smell of damp clothes as my old pair did. But yes, the rain. In the past week the rain has been almost a constant to our lives, making us run from building to building and forcing students to take shelter in the libraries, resulting in packed and damp floors with almost no computer to spare. Luckily I have taken my refuge in the Harold Cohen Library lately, the science library which has so many computers at its disposal that you never fail to find one. Plus the widescreens are amazing. Anyway, I always managed to beat the rain by walking with my hood pulled tightly over my eyes for short distancing and taking a bus or taxi for the long ones. But today I had no choice, I had to cycle the long, cold road which is named Lawrence Road (never doing that again, that is for sure) while the rain splattered in my face and the wind blew my hood to the back of my neck. It wasn't fun and it made me crawl into bed with my duvet and my fleece blanket when I came home, tracky bottoms replacing my soaked jeans and my dressing gown firmly tied around my waist. And still I am cold, though the heating is slowly coming to life. But it's not the cold or the rain which is worst. Oh no, that would be an easy task to carry, sitting inside with hot chocolate and biscuits, while Jeremy Kyle gives his advice to the scallies of Great Britain. No, the worst of all is this bloody daylight saving time. In Belgium it is bad enough, the sun sets at half four and everyone creeps back in their houses trying to preserve some warmth and light in their lives. But in Liverpool, the dark hits at three o'clock, half three if we're lucky, and before you know it, it feels like it's evening and all is cold and dark and scary. Your day feels like it is over, while you are only halfway (only one fourth if you're me, waking up at twelve). It is depressing and makes me wonder how the town does not empty itself once November hits, everyone travelling to the sun. Money is of course the issue, but by Jove, if there is one thing about England I thoroughly dislike, it's the weather and how it makes me feel. I haven't felt this miserable for no particular reason in a long time, and I am quite sure my mother (and most of my family) would positively drown themselves if they were forced to live here for longer than a week. Luckily I can bear it a little, blaring away the darkness with a brightly lit laptop screen in front of me and some chocolate at my disposal. Let's hope Spring comes soon, and Summer next.