You wonder why people are calling you at 7: 30 a.m., when you're so fast asleep. Then you wake up. You open the blinds but don't look out. Then you do, five minutes later.
And wonder what the trash is, in white swathes by the gate. You crinkle your nose. Foam?
And then you look up.
It's indescribable, the feeling on seeing a first snow. London looks vulnerable, tamed... humbled, almost.
