Winter in Canada

Let me tell you something about Montreal in the winter: It's cold, it is very, very cold indeed. Cold and I do not get along, I have tried to see things his way but it's just not happening. I have to laugh when I call my family and hear of the national crisis that occurs when England receives an inch of snow on its green and pleasant lands.

I know that Hull City council has perhaps only one designated gritting truck but when you've seen winter as I have, cold, barren wastelands of winter then you gain a bit of perspective.

If the temperature gets below zero in Hull, people panic, I know this to be true. However, in Canada I can personally attest to the fact that zero degrees is a prompt for Bermuda shorts and sandcastles. You go out in your t-shirt in zero degrees in Canada. Now, between January and February, the delightfully picturesque Quebec city that was Montreal no longer resembles it's gorgeous summer self.

The most brutal winter weather reveals itself. Twenty-five centimeters of snow is not uncommon in one day or night and when you've managed to dig yourself out of that, another similar load awaits you the next day. Ice is a constant peril, the brown sludge that remains from the city's lackadaisical attempts to clear the roads do not flatter the landscape.

The sidewalks increase by two-feet in length by treacherous ice and snow sheets. And the cold, oh my God the cold. Minus forty temperatures with a wind-chill factor of minus sixty! For those of you that have never experienced such freezing conditions, permit me to describe them if I can.

Any, and I do mean any skin that is showing on your body for any length of time freezes almost immediately. There are constant tears on your face from your efforts to clear the icicles that have formed on your eyelashes. If you have nose hair, that freezes and is quite uncomfortable, for the more unkempt Montrealler it might even be a respiratory problem. I have known odd noises to permeate my hearing only to realize that it is actually me, emitting several small and involuntary screams as the cold blasts against my face.

So yeah, even though I lived in Hull for the majority of my life I am still somewhat bewildered by the news of schools shutting down and widespread panic on the roads at the sight of one or two snowflakes. I have to give Canadians credit for one thing, they do what they have to do whatever the weather. In such hostile conditions, it is very easy to want to stay indoors and if you have a length of time off from work then cabin fever is something you must disrupt.

Also, S.A.D.S. or seasonally adjusted depression syndrome is a big problem in this part of the world. Six months of relentless cold and reduced mobility thanks to the snow is a high price to pay regardless of how postcard-perfect the land may appear. Despite this drastic indictment of Montreal in the winter, I have to say that I think it's worth it to be able to experience the beauty of the summer months. Before you can get to that though, there is a period of a few weeks when the snow and ice is thawing that an overwhelming dog shit odor infests the atmosphere.

There is a phenomenon in Montreal and that is that the numerous dog owners diligently take their dogs out for exercise throughout the winter months, expertly scoop the poop, deftly tie the bag containing the offending loaf and don't bother to take it home or place it in a city rubbish bin. In fact, the local sports field has a wire fence exhibition of loads of these offerings hanging from it, a veritable rogue's gallery of shite. Believe me, that thin plastic layer does nothing to mask the stench once our old pal the sun gets hold of it.

So during your tropical Christmas, think of me, one of your very own over here in igloo country, taking my life into my own hands by waiting for a bus, risking circumcision through public urination and generally praying that March gets its arse in gear.

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