I suppose whichever country we live in - parti cularly if we were born and brought up there - we quite quickly become accustomed to the climate and weather conditions. It doesn't stop us complaining about them though does it?
Not sure whether this is a particular English characteristic or whether it applies to every Nationality.
A few years ago we went on the Hurtigruten, up the coast of Norway and round to the Russian border at Kirkenes. We went to see the midnight sun and on Midsummer's night we went to a concert in Tromso cathedral on midnight. Folk were drinking coffee in outdoor cafes around the cathedral, children were playing on their bikes in the square - it was twilight and as dark as it got at that time of the year.
The converse is also true of course. From mid December until mid February it will barely get light.
The thought of living in perpetual semi-darkness for weeks makes me feel like curling up into a ball and hibernating. But if one is born to it then I suppose it is a way of life.
Similarly with the degree of cold. It is not a pleasant day here. The sun came up and promised well, but it has been all uphill after that. As I drove into town it was minus two and the fields were frosted although the sun was glinting on the grass and it was quite beautiful in a wintry kind of way. By the time I returned after my trip to the Bank and a coffee with friend C (our favourite cafe is open again after a fortnight's redecorating) the sun had gone in, the cloud had descended, it was deeply depressing weather and yet the temperature had risen to plus six degrees. It felt much colder.
Our friends F and R in The Netherlands often speak about how every year the dykes used to freeze and there was skating along them and yearly races. Then the weather began to be warmer and now rarely are the dykes frozen enough to allow skating.
However, today in the Times there is a photograph of skaters on the dykes. I am about to send a e mail to them asking if this ice is widespread and if this is one of those now rare happenings 'a skating year'.
Light the woodburner, close the curtains, get out a good book and Bob's your uncle. Never thought I would reach this stage in life.