It’s official: since moving to the Deep South, I’ve gone soft. In fact, I think the process started when I left North Yorkshire in the 1990s and headed south in the UK – though Cambridge always had its share of freezing winds direct from the Urals. But here in Charleston, things are a little different.
Let’s just say that the south doesn’t deal very well with cold weather. For example: the other week was a bit of a cold one; the temperatures dropped below freezing for a couple of nights. This extreme of temperature had the weather stations putting out a wind chill warning, and local radio \ suggesting everyone should wrap up and stay inside. Meanwhile up in Colorado, several feet of snow had fallen and everyone was getting outside!
The average low temperature in January here is 6 celsius , or 43 in old money. (And there’s another thing: I am totally not used to using Fahrenheit. Frankly I have no idea what it means. When people talk about temperatures in the 70s I just smile politely and look slightly blank). So generally, when winter weather hits, no-one is ready for it.
And now, nor am I. Weather that, when I was in London, I would have remarked was “a little parky” (or brass monkey) is now eye-wateringly cold. Heated seats in the car are a must, every morning. Brrrrr, it ain’t half cold here. But this is good. I don’t miss the cold weather in the slightest. Move north again? No ta.
South of the Mason-Dixon line 