Bing Crosby had it all wrong: the classic white Christmas is totally overrated. (In fact, it's so overrated that it's going to appear in an upcoming article we're running on the most overrated things in world travel. Send me an email if you have any other suggestions.)
I spent six glum-faced winters living in London. For the most part, it was a cracking place to be. The work was good. The nightlife was great. The short breaks on the Continent were tremendous and the brief summers were lovely. I even started supporting a football team (play up, Pompey!).
But when Christmas Day rolled around, the pinch really hit home. Naturally, Kiwis abroad will miss family and friends on December 25. But the lack of vitamin D was the real killer.
Snow in a city is lovely - for about an hour or so. Your world briefly looks like a fairy tale. After which, the white snow turns to a brown sludge that renders all activity impossible.
Need to step outside? You'll be getting cold brown sludge between your toes. It doesn't help that when you phone home your family are all sitting, be-jandalled, around the barbecue.
