Thursday 12th December

It has been a fairly mild Autumn, lots of sunny days, not much rain and the leaves still clinging stubbornly to the trees.  But now we are in mid December and here comes the fog.  I always expect it this time of year as it was terribly foggy when my son was born.   It was half smog back then in 1969 too, there was lots of smoke in the air.  Factories belching out the stuff and most homes still burning coal.  Also far more people smoked.  The tube was filthy with smoke, peoples clothes reeked of the stuff, offices had a cloud of fuggy smoke hovering a foot above the ceiling.  London was grimy with smoke, and when the fog came down it became dark smoky-yellow smog really.

Then on many of his birthdays we would wake to this silent still clinging fog, waiting for a bus you could hear it long before see it, and would step out into the road to read the number.  Always a couple of weeks before Christmas we would get the fog.  And today (yesterday for you) was no exception.  Taking the dogs out before seven it was a misty dark fog.  I couldn’t see the river and only just to the railings.  It didn’t seem to bother the dogs; all they were interested in was the smell of other dogs pee on the walls and lamp-posts.  Maybe the fog doesn’t dampen smells.  It certainly dampens one’s spirits.  I cannot think of another weather condition I dislike more.  Even a snowstorm has an inner beauty, driving rain can be invigorating but this fog seeps right into your soul, making you shudder as it slides down the back of your neck and seems to worm its way through the layers.  It also has a threatening feeling, as you cannot see people clearly as they loom out of the fog.   For our prehistoric predecessors it must have been the most dangerous of times, a time for gathering round the fire and keeping the demons and wild animals at bay.

And worst of all we know that these foggy days are just the precursor to Winter proper.