Maria Smedstad: Sticking together

People in the UK have a remarkable skill for uniting. This is particularly evident during the early spring months, when the nation shows off its flair for coming together through a cheerful form of shared despair.
At this time of year, when my home country Sweden is experiencing a glorious early spring with sparkling snow and bright blue skies, the UK landscape resembles a giant, perished slug. Grey, lifeless and highly slippery, there’s not much you can do, except make comments like: “I think it’s worse today than yesterday.”

Brits will say this, with ruddy-cheeked glee, which may seem odd to a foreigner. “Do you know, I think it’s colder inside the house, than outside!” they will happily declare, appearing to be the most pessimistic and unhinged nation on the planet. This, however, isn’t true. Stating “I haven’t seen the sun since summer” and then quickly followed by “No wait, we didn’t have a summer ha ha,” is how Brits make friends. And friends can be made everywhere, using this language.

No matter their differences, a mutual misery will glue Brits together like pickles in a cheese sandwich. In other words, it’s actually a positive thing. If you have lived in the UK for some time, you can test how British you have become by seeing how quickly you ask: “Wet out there?” when a stranger walks in from the street, soaked to the bone, their umbrella turned inside out, their skin the colour of uncooked chicken.

A British spring also illustrates how quick this nation is to thaw, literally and metaphorically. While Sweden is still covered in ice, green buds will shoot up through the dead-slug hills of the UK, promising better days ahead. Or, as the Brits will keenly put it: “Pollen-allergy-season next!”