The English fog

There is the stereotype of London fog – perhaps bolstered by those Victorian images of Sherlock Holmes walking through London. I think many people in America have this image that England is perpetually surrounded by rain and fog. Perhaps it is also why England, or I should say all of Britain, is the perfect backdrop for a Gothic romance novel.

Nowhere in the States did we ever experience a deep fog that lasts for a long time. Usually, you would get fog early in the morning, which lifts by mid-morning at the latest. Of course, you’d find it with driving blizzard conditions and other storms. Then, of course, some cities were so polluted you would get some smog – a very dirty fog.

But here, it seems so natural to have a fog that does not lift until well into the afternoon; then the sun comes out bright and warm. It provides such a contrast in temperature. Visibility is poor on the road and as you’re driving through the country, it does give you an eerie feel. It’s the kind of thing that is perfect for Halloween.

Today, as we walked through a town in the fog, there was a smell of wood-burning. It inspired images of a log cabin, though you wouldn’t have found that in this medieval town. Mixed with the scent of some of the flowers, it was very nostalgic, but I had difficulty in recalling where I had felt and smelt the sensations.

Interestingly, the fog does not give me the feeling of gloom, as an overcast sky does. Somehow, it is invigorating and exciting. Again, it may be my love of the dramatic and gothic.

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