Today was one of those delightful British days. Howling wind and torrential rain crashed down on the streets of Britain taking a few casualties along the way...
Now, I'm not talking about the general public being drowned in puddles, or tiny tots being blown away in the wind a la Mary Poppins, no sirree, I'm talking about our faithful weather friends, brolly's.
On this particularly rainy day I could not help but notice the number of abandoned brolly's laying around my university campus. Discarded by their owners, each sport injuries of various kinds. Some have broken arms, whilst others nurse rips and tears. You cant help but feel a little sorry for them as you pass them by.
Couldn't they have been salvaged? Did it need to come to this?
While some owners will try to salvage what's left of their failing shelter from the rain, perhaps by propping up the broken arm or using it until the bitter end, others will cast it off, no regrets, no remorse.
Our loyal props have no other purpose but to protect us from the downpour, yet I cant help but feel some attachment to my protective friend...
The umbrella world would describe it as a mass murder, an umbrella massacre if you will.
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