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How the snow affects London…

So round where I am, the snow is less than 4mm. Enough to make people slip at 8am – especially when they’re walking back from the off-licence with their daily six cans of beer – but not enough to stop the buses, cars, trains or anything else. At least, in Inner London.

But that hasn’t stopped the ridculously funny panicing behaviour of some Londoners, to whit:
- panic-buying in the shops
- Someone on BBC Radio 1 who had an event cancelled because of the snow: “We’re not being cowards, we’re genuinely fearful of our health and safety”
- one woman walking home in the middle of a light snowstorm, wearing just a skimpy black lace top. Talk about being caught out…

And despite the lack of snow, there was still enough for kids to start having snowball fights in local parks, and enough to give the usually dour and grey street I’m on a bit of colour. Which is good enough for me for now.

Still, some random highlights of the snow in London:
- bikini-clad models hired to promote a dance workout DVD end up having a snowball fight (The Telegraph). They must have been FREEZING.
- Other Londonist pics of London in the snow
- London on ice in days gone by
- Snow Daleks!
- Why it doesn’t snow in Inner London

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Obsessed with snow? Moi?

An hour after I made this video, the snow has stopped. Oh snow Gods, why do you punish me thusly?

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Arguing over parking spaces…

You’d have thought that a three-way confrontation in a West London housing estate on a sultry summer evening would be sparked over something important, like racist community action, or something. But not a blimmin’ parking space.

First of all, some background. I’ve part-owned my flat for about a decade – but the parking space is not outside my flat, it’s further down the estate opposite someone else’s house. Since I don’t own a car any more, I rent out said parking space to whoever wants it, for about £5 a day. So far, there’s been no troubles …

until today. Some building company wanted to park their Transit van there for a month, and offered me a lump sum which I accepted. When they finally arrived at said parking space, they pointed out that there was already a scooter there. So I suggested they just park in the space next to the scooter.

Oh no. These numbnuts MOVE the scooter to the pavement.

Cue three of today’s finest yoof angrily coming out of the house opposite, (understandably) asking what on earth is going on. So now I have to prove my ownership of said space – which comes as a surprise to the evil Curly Watts lookalike (complete with bottles for glasses) who owns the house opposite.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been very good at confronting the thieving yoof of today, so while I’m trying to remain calm, I’m probably slightly stuttering and quietly spoken. But the leader of the yoof gang gleefully informs me that I’m shouting, but then of course everyone else is shouting at each other. Oh, and for bonus points, he says I stink – which is as close as you can get to a racist insult without it actually being a racist insult. Hell, he might as well have said I stank of curry powder.

So all this took the wind out of my sails, but at the same time, the kids withdrew back into the house, with the Curly Watts lookalike threatening to beat us up. The owners of said Transit van are no longer sure that the parking space is safe, and thus leave.

So I’m left with a house at the end of the street that hates me, a parking space that I can’t really use for fear that one of them will vandalise anything that’s put there, and a reminder of my utter ineptness at dealing with the arrogant yoof of today. Just like the time in Cardiff when I confronted someone trying to steal my bike and HE CARRIED ON BREAKING THE LOCK WHILE I WAS THERE.

Just another random muggy spring night on my housing estate.

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“Give me my pizza or I will f**k you up”

was the phrase that I heard shouted in the street below.

Being unable to resist the temptation to look, I twitched the curtain and saw two women – one elderly woman in her 50s wearing tracksuit bottoms and a young girl in an all-pink tracksuit – confronting a helmeted pizza delivery man. It would seem that they had been waiting for their pizza for over an hour and were extremely angry that the man would not give them their pizza.

So while shouting phrases like “Don’t you f**king touch my daughter” (who had the said pizza), they chased the pizza delivery man down the street, and pushed over his motorbike. At some point, presumably happy that they had the pizza, they allowed the pizza delivery man to motorbike away, and went back inside their house.

Two minutes later, he biked back and parked at the far end of the street. I have no idea why.

Just another random spring night in West London!

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