Polish winters have become spineless and effeminate and I’m getting heartily sick of it. Honestly, it’s December and I’m still wearing Hawaiian shirts and my attractively baggy knee-length shorts. It’s a rubbish winter, I’ve seen more frigid nymphomaniacs. I can forgive one, or maybe even two, limp-wristed winters over the course of, say, a decade but this is shaping up to become the third pathetic effort in a row. It just won’t do.
I want snow up to my thighs, I want blizzards so thick I can’t find my way to end of the street, I want the thrill of not knowing if I’m going to make it back from the pub alive, I want skin ripped off my fingers when I grab the handrail on the tram, I want birds falling frozen from the sky, I want ice and the opportunity to fall on my arse every three feet, I want black nights with steadily falling snow and the kind of cold that makes you wonder if the atmosphere has gone and you’re being exposed to the vacuum of space. Instead of that it’s just quite grey and a little bit chilly. I can get that in England for god’s sake.
I have a large selection of fiercely absurd hats, gloves, and scarves that I’ve collected over the years in anticipation of a proper Polish winter and I can’t use any of them. I haven’t worn gloves since 1997 and I despair of ever having the opportunity to don my proper Polish hat with ear flaps. I’ll give it another couple of weeks and then I’m going to seriously consider moving to Manitoba or Irkutsk or somewhere else where they have proper winters.
A couple of weeks ago the Polish blogosphere was briefly infested with “Oh look! It’s snowing!” posts. This was all very sweet and entertaining but it drew only a hollow laugh from this black-hearted pundit. “Enjoy it while you can” I grinned “that’s the last of the white stuff we’ll see until February.”
It’s the kids I feel sorry for (actually that’s not true, it’s me I feel sorry for, but let’s pretend) what kind of stories will they have to tell their grandchildren “Cold!? What the bloody hell do you know about cold? I remember the winter of ’08, for a couple of days there in January I had to do me coat up and put me hands in me pockets. Think on young ‘un.”*
Here is my definitive climatological analysis of the evolution of the Polish climate from rock-hard, no-nonsense, snow-up-to-your-eyebrows, arse-kicking winter to today’s weedy, pant-wetting, ‘oh-it’s-a-little-bit-chilly,’ feeble excuse for a winter.
*in the future Polish people will have adopted a cliched Yorkshire mode of speech, for some reason.