We’re breaking records here in Chesham.
December 2010 saw the mercury famously drop to minus 17 (I think it made the One Show), and last night we plumbed the depths to minus 11. It’s something to do with the microclimate that our dear little Chiltern valley creates: sheltered and protected from the wind, temperatures plummet in certain wintry conditions.
This is bad news for the commuter community. The poor old Metropolitan line from Chesham creaks along at the best of times but during a cold snap, it positively cries for help. The trepidation when I leave the house to set off on my epic journey to work in London is tangible. Will I or won’t I make it?
Apart from falling on my btm in treacherous ice outside the station last year (resulting in a bruise the size of a dinner plate), these snowy mornings don’t bode well if you have any self respect or fashion sense. My friends and colleagues arrive at work in neat little coats and ankle boots, having made their way via the toasty Tube or more reliable/convivial train services. I, meanwhile, have left my home attired in layer upon layer as advised and shivered for an hour on an un-heated Met line train to arrive eventually: ruddy cheeked and dressed like a yeti.
