it just happened all by itself

Part of my deep suspicion and mistrust of Umbrellae comes from their constant threat of trauma when in use. Although I know of no recorded instance of actual Umbrelloid injury they are most certainly the definitive "that" with which one could have out someone's eye, particularly when the wielding entity is a wee old woman of the kind who seem aware of no other people on the pavement besides themselves and whose paths could be most charitably described as bumblingly erratic, as of an inebriate bee in an hurricane (either the second world war fighter aircraft often overlooked by the more glamourous yet less effective Spitfire or the powerful meteorological phenomenom after whom the aircraft were named). It is hard to like an object covered in unnecessarily pointsome spikes (usually spaced perfectly to threaten both eyes simultaneously) and shaped to catch every erratic gust of wind in the hope of escaping the minimal control offered by their handler's feeble grasp.

The other thing is that they apparently affect the minds of those holding them. Pictured are the legs of a tall, healthy, modern human male from Scotland's fashionable Prestwck/Ayr border on a day out to visit an allotment. Despite the nearby presence of such robust items as sheds (including particularly ramshackle versions made from old bits of pallet and bus stop), gardening implements (including vast and weighty wheelbarrows) and lengths of wood covered in rusty nails the umbrella nevertheless imposes its will upon those who grasp its handle and forces them to adopt unbecomingly dainty stances such as that pictured which I shall describe as "Halliday's Misfortune" when I eventually get round to properly documenting it.

Only had time for a quick walk in the morning prior to our damp and delayed journey into the West to visit Scott's Allotment on the occasion of its Open Day. The dampness and dull meant that we were pretty much the only non-allotment-owning visitors which at least meant that we could poke around without having to speak to too many people. I don;t know if this partcicular batch of allotments are exceptionally grand but they seemed to have the same slightly-bigger-and-better-presented-ness which Wegian tenement-stairwells also exhbiit in comparison to those of their counterparts in Edinburgh. Besides the sunflowers and tomoatoes and the grapevine a few plots down I had no idea what was what but it was all very nice and alive and green where it was not black and yellow and dead and after an hour's stately wandering we returned to the house (via the official allotment visitor's centre (where we had a coffee and bought some jam), the park and the streets) where we sat around watching the children entertaining themselves with gravity, watching the children's television to reassure us that just because they don't have Bagpuss and Noggin the Nog any more they're not still making the odd programme mildly sinister and eventually popping out for some food. I shall have to find out the name of the place whence I got my doner as it was the first kebab I have ever had which I wish I had never bought: odd-tasting salad, boiledy-tasting rather than marinadey-tasting meat and strange salty-tasting thin and improper insufficiently-spiced sauce. I also unloaded my third blipcard on Scott who shall hopefully be tempted to join.

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