Today has taught me two things: in general, people cannot be trusted with umbrellas, and eating Haribo late at night is not conducive to a good night’s sleep, but that last point is by the by.
People just cannot use umbrellas safely or sensibly. They think that the mere act of holding an umbrella provides them with an extra 12-foot radius of personal space that is not only impenetrable, but in which they are free to do what the hell they want, such as swing their umbrella in a wide sweeping motion every time they turn round, which they don’t think will wipe out the ten people standing near them – but here’s the thing –
– or that they can hold it away from themselves and shake it out like a wet dog, which they don’t imagine will drown the small child next to them – but, again –
– or that they can prod their umbrella in any direction whilst trying to close it, never thinking for one second that it will stab innocent bystanders through the heart – but, you know –
People with umbrellas think that no one else is using an umbrella at the same time as them, and therefore think that the other person will clearly be able to see them barraging down the pavement using their umbrella as a shield, and that a terrible collision will not ensue. The thing is
They also think that if the other person isn’t holding an umbrella, they will gladly leap out of the way of the shield-wielding maniac to avoid being mowed down. Unfortunately, sometimes,
People with umbrellas think that they can stop suddenly at the top of railway station steps, in shop doorways, in the middle of pavements, and fanny around with their umbrella for as long as they want and that it doesn’t cause a pile up behind them. But, sadly,
Umbrellas turn ordinary people into liabilities. Today I have been prodded, poked, whacked, slapped, drenched, all by the reckless use of spherical pieces of taut material on the end of sticks. Just sort it out, please. If you can’t be trusted to use one properly, don’t use it at all. It’s only a bit of rain. Jeez.