Ode to brollies

However expensive they are when it’s raining pots and pans and you’re in a queue for ten minutes because your boots leak and your hat’s not that powerful; however much they ruin your spatial awareness and make you clang into things you’d otherwise miss by three feet; however much they turn inside out, poke you in your own eyes or make you look camp; however much you can’t help leaning on them when they’re by your side, like you’re some Victorian gentryman; however much they dribble everywhere and prang open when you’re least expecting because you bought the one with the button; however much they didn’t hardly use them in the trenches, well.

I quite like that I’m old enough to own a umbrella.