Heathrow is a fine gateway in to the UK and entirely representative of the commercialism of the country.
It assumes a captive audience, of adoring folks from abroad who enter the country with differing forms of idealism towards all things English, only to find that one of very first intersubjective commodities is indifference to the visitor. This, in turn, elicits a certain kind of anxious dependence on the good will of the airport staff–a strain that will be extended as the visitor moves from the gateway into the country–and while fleeced by hotels, overly priced restaurants, the tourist then returns home through the same gateway of indifference.
Fact is: it works.
Were visitors treated well then they would not actually partake in the depths of the British psyche which thrives on scarcity economies: commercial, intellectual, and relational.
So, fortress Heathrow, come snow or any form of weather remains inflexible as do the inhabitants of the country.