Cold, windy, wet and miserable here in Liverpool, and everywhere else, not like it said in the brochure and on the Christmas cards. This little passage from Adam Nicolson's book Perch Hill: A New Life (1999) sums it all up really:
'The whole of Sussex looked as if it had been in bed with 'flu for a week. Its skin was ill and a sort of blackness had entered the picture, as if it had been over-inked. No modern descriptions of winter ever put this clodden, damp mulishness at the centre of things. People always talk about ice and frost and glitter and hardness and crispness and freshness and brightness and sparkle and brilliance and tingle. It's all nonsense. England is at sea and has sea-weather, a mediated dampness. That winter it entered our souls.'
That is all.