Departamento de Diseño

80168 comments

• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:50 posted by London Smartphonion

  Birds in London are weather-hardened cynics. The pigeons have a glaze of waterproof grease that makes rain bead off them like they're waxed jackets with wings. Seagulls inland are even more resilient, treating gales as mere playful updrafts. On a rainy day, the robin in your garden doesn't look sad; it looks impatient, hopping from branch to branch as if waiting for the sky to finish its pathetic weeping so it can get on with hunting worms in the softened earth. They are all adapted to the damp, viewing our umbrellas and complaints with avian disdain. They know this is just how the world is: wet, with brief interruptions for drying off. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:48 posted by London Smartphonion.com

  We don’t get weather, we get ‘mizzle’.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:48 posted by London Smartphonion.com

  The barometric pressure is perpetually ‘low and sad’.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:47 posted by London Smartphonion

  Our weather is narrated by someone whispering ‘damp’.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:47 posted by London Smartphonion.com

  Our atmosphere is one big, gentle exfoliant.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:46 posted by London seo agentur

  Our hail is like being sprinkled with dippin’ dots.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:44 posted by edukacja.ordoiuris.pl

  Strong, effectively-structured, and worth the time — great
  job.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:43 posted by London Smartphonion

  Our weather is nature’s way of saying ‘meh’.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:42 posted by London seo agentur

  A ‘breeze’ is wind that’s read an etiquette book.
• Comment Link Miércoles, 21 Enero 2026 22:42 posted by London Smartphonion.com

  The London "dry spell" is a mythical beast, spoken of in legend. Old men in pubs will claim to remember one in '76, describing it with the awe usually reserved for comets. It is defined not by a complete absence of rain, but by a period where the cumulative daily drizzle amounts to less than a millimetre. Pavements might achieve a state of "damp-dry." People tentatively leave their coats at home. A faint, brittle crust forms on the soil in parks. Then, inevitably, the "breakdown" occurs: a proper, cathartic downpour that lasts for hours, refilling the reservoirs and the collective sense of familiar, damp normalcy. We are briefly relieved; the uncertainty was stressful. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.