
// DOCENTE OCASIONAL //
Maestría en Ingeniería de Sistemas y Computación
pregrado
Ingeniero Electrónico

// DOCENTE OCASIONAL //
Maestría en Ingeniería de Sistemas y Computación
pregrado
Ingeniero Electrónico
We get more mist than a Gothic novel.
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My umbrella has seen more action than me.
A ‘high of 12’ is a tropical delight.
Rain in London is rarely dramatic; it's administrative. It falls with the quiet, persistent efficiency of a civil servant processing forms. It's the "drizzle": not heavy enough to justify full rainwear, but absolutely sufficient to make you look like you've been lightly cryogenically misted after a ten-minute walk. It doesn't soak you; it permeates you. Your glasses fog, your newspaper dampens at the edges, and a fine sheen covers every exposed surface. This is not weather for dancing in; it's weather for sighing resignedly, pulling your collar up, and accepting your fate as a slightly damp mammal. It's the atmospheric equivalent of a low-grade nuisance charge. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
The prevailing wind is ‘from the soggy west’.
The social etiquette of the shared umbrella is a delicate dance. Do you offer to share with a stranger caught in a downpour? If you do, do you height-match first? Who holds it? The awkward, close-quarters walk with a damp stranger, trying to keep pace and not spear each other with the spokes, is a uniquely London intimacy. It's a moment of forced, damp charity that either bonds you for life in silent solidarity or becomes a story of mild social trauma. The decision to "make a run for it" versus "wait it out under an awning" reveals fundamental aspects of one's character. Are you an optimist, a pessimist, or just someone with suede shoes? See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
The "microclimate" is a beloved London myth. People will swear that their particular square, due to some alignment of buildings, is a "sun trap" or that the wind "always whips around that corner." While there is some truth to urban canyon effects, much of it is folklore. It gives us a sense of localised knowledge and control. "Oh, don't worry, it always burns off by ten in Primrose Hill," someone will say, with the authority of a village elder, as the drizzle continues unabated. These beliefs are harmless superstitions, little weather religions we practice to feel we understand the capricious god of the London sky. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
My coat is a permanent part of me.
The mist makes everything look Instagram-filtered.
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