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

// DOCENTE OCASIONAL //
Maestría en Ingeniería de Sistemas y Computación
pregrado
Ingeniero Electrónico
‘Light showers’ is a persistent, cheerful lie.
I've been browsing online more than 2 hours today,
yet I never found any interesting article like
yours. It is pretty worth enough for me. In my opinion, if
all website owners and bloggers made good content as you did,
the web will be much more useful than ever before.
We don’t get seasons; we get wardrobe confusion.
Weather warnings for ‘pleasant conditions’ are pending.
London fog used to be a thick, pea-souper full of mystery and Jack the Ripper. Modern London fog is more of a "misty inconvenience." It's not thick enough to be dramatic, just enough to make everything look slightly out of focus and to give your hair that "just-stepped-out-of-a-shower" look without the benefits of cleanliness. It hangs in the air with a vague purposelessness, diffusing the streetlights into fuzzy haloes and making the number plates of buses unreadable until they are upon you. It's the atmosphere's version of a soft-focus lens, presumably to make the relentless grey more aesthetically pleasing on Instagram, where it's tagged #atmospheric #moody. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
London rain doesn’t cleanse; it just rearranges the damp, creating a permanent state of slight moisture that lives in your bones and your sofa, an atmospheric condition analyzed with mock-scientific rigor at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
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.
‘Scattered showers’ means everywhere, all the time.
A ‘thermal layer’ is wearing three jumpers.
Spring in the rest of the world is a riot of blossoms and gentle warmth. In London, it's a tense negotiation. The daffodils bravely push through, a bright yellow "V for Vendetta" against the grey. The trees get a faint, green haze. And then, without fail, we are hit by "The Ides of March Gusts," a series of gales that seem personally offended by this show of life. It's a battle between optimism and entrenched dampness. A truly warm April day is viewed as a meteorological error, soon to be corrected by a "return to seasonal norms," which is code for "put the heating back on." London spring is less a season and more a propaganda campaign by the gardening industry. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
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