The Winds of Change

It looks like this winter Britain and Russia have become inexplicably and inextricably connected by some changes in weather. As you know, I was born and grew up in Moscow. Normally, at this time of the year the temperature would be well below -10 Celsius. As I love skiing, I would only be able to ski while it’s above -15; once it was below that point, skiing would be dangerous to one’s health (unless one was dying to experience pneumonia).

Now, I look at the BBC weather forecast, and what do I see? I see that they forecast +6 C. this Friday in Moscow. This is normally the weather for mid-March.

The BBC reported yesterday on the effect such mild winter is having on people and animals. It is, in one word, depressive. I’ve spoken to someone with whom I used to study at the University in Moscow, and the person admitted being depressed. The bears in the zoo didn’t hybernate. It may sound amusing, but in Russia we are used to the heaps of snow in the streets, and skiing, and skating, and wearing huge winter coats, and maybe if this kind of weather visits my country next winter my people will take it differently.

Better still, the winds (one of which is currently howling and wailing at my window) have been playing tricks with radio listeners. Thus, people in Somerset had got a taster of Moscow radio, while people in Canada were stunned to listen weather forecast for Somerset. Unfortunately, the report doesn’t say what radio station had gone with the winds to Moscow.

I have experienced my bit of depression in the winter 2003/4, which was my first winter in England. When it snowed for about half an hour on New Year’s night, I was over the Moon. But otherwise it was lonely and unhappy. Admittedly, I probably couldn’t concentrate on this too much, as I was studying, so my mind was preoccupied with other things. But looking at what I was writing at the time, I realise that the climatic change which I could by no means escape did leave its mark.