Emma Cowing: Capital consternation a comfort to provincials unfazed by snow

Published on Tuesday 3 February 2009 19:33

ONE of my favourite Christmas presents last year was the fabulous Scotland: The Autobiography, edited by Rosemary Goring, a treasure trove of tales and stories that go some way to telling the history of this wild and complex country of ours. It is a joy to dip in and out of, the perfect bedtime book, although I have taken to keeping it on my coffee table of an evening,

as TV adverts last such an abysmally long time these days I find I can press the mute button, blank out that irritating Sainsbury's family and happily read a tale or two by the time the eardrum-bustingly infuriating music is over.

On Monday night I was doing just that when I happened upon the fascinating tale, written in 1695 by Gaelic travelogue writer Martin Martin, of an inhabitant of St Kilda venturing to Glasgow for the first time in his life. As you might imagine the traveller was stunned, unable to comprehend that such marvels as a church (which he insisted was a rock), or a coach and horses ('A house?' he asked) existed. What really rocked his olde-world, however, was the sound of church bells. When he heard them he was, "under a mighty consternation, as if the fabric of the world had been in great disorder".

It is comforting then, to realise that some things in life don't change, because this was exactly the reaction of the city of London on Monday when confronted with a few inches of crystallised water. Jaws dropped. Eyes widened. Tongues lolled. It was as if London, one of the world's most sophisticated cities, had been reduced to the wide-eyed status of a blinking yokel from what its natives so derogatorily refer to as the provinces.

The bus services came to a standstill and so did most of the Tube lines. Thousands of commuters never made it to work and the rest of us, trying to contact counterparts in London, found ourselves listening to the vacant ringing of telephones in empty offices. By the 6 O'clock News, coverage had been reduced to organised pointing at various locations around the city, accompanied by frenzied shouts of "Look! LOOK! IT'S SNOW! IN LONDON!"

The rest of the country (by which I probably mean Scotland and some of the north of England) looked on in benign amusement. It was rather sweet, really, seeing London paralysed in such a manner.

It was as if someone had pushed over an elephant in front of the rest of the zoo, and all the smaller animals had crowded round to watch it helplessly waving its big clumsy feet around.

I do not mean to be mean about London. It is a fabulous city, one of my favourites. But occasionally, just once in a while, it is good to see the old beast on its knees, scraping along in the slush and gawping up at the church bells with the rest of us.