tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post1552026041826291261..comments2024-03-18T10:29:46.055+00:00Comments on Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff: Small Beige UmbrellaKen Armstronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-81104707260941775292018-04-16T08:04:57.496+01:002018-04-16T08:04:57.496+01:00I rarely used an umbrella until I came to the UK, ...I rarely used an umbrella until I came to the UK, but your reference to Mum umbrellas reminded me of my own mom fighting with my 3 brothers to keep their hands off her various practical black ones. She bought a very expensive fuschia coloured one two rows of ruffles, thinking they'd be unlikely to knick it. She was right. That umbrella still sits in her umbrella stand. I haven't the heart to remove it even though she died a few years ago and it is probably rotten. When I arrived in 97, I learned how important umbrellas were in a country where personal cars are not the primary mode of transportation for most people. I also learned why most of the practical bags had an outside pocket with eyelets built in for drainage. My mother was superstitious about opening umbrellas in the house, but there always seemed to be one draining open in the bathtub, which, apparently, was a superstition-free zone. I also find it hard to throw away practical things. These days it's impossible to use an umbrella because I generally carry two walking sticks when I'm out on my own. But I still have two or three tiny umbrellas, a couple of which have been rendered unsightly by being wind whipped. You never know when a guest might need one to carry away with them. Notice how I have carefully avoided responding to Jim's comments about his errant disposal of a nearly brand new set of canisters which were all full of the contents which their decorative labels proclaimed. And a matching french press. And yet there are several re-purposed biscuit tins in various stages of indentedness still occupying space on those same shelves.Carrie Berryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11200797035059634760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-41109549263737228122018-04-16T07:58:48.745+01:002018-04-16T07:58:48.745+01:00Once again your words echo my own thoughts. Most i...Once again your words echo my own thoughts. Most if not all of my turns have been a reaction to external influence, rather than me poking my head out from under the tarp and just going for it. I only recently learned to drive, when family circumstances meant that the only way for life to run smoothly meant me being able to get myself and others about easily. I often say that meeting my wife was the making of me and it's true. Most of the great variety of experiences I've had happened once we met. I would have still been knocking about the same streets, in the same clothes, making the same choices in ever decreasing circles had I not ventured out with my cousin one night and found her.Marc Patersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16124869545439738846noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-35176017283553942912018-04-15T13:27:24.761+01:002018-04-15T13:27:24.761+01:00One of my oldest possessions is an umbrella, a cla...One of my oldest possessions is an umbrella, a classic, non-folding umbrella that I bought in British Home Stores in East Kilbride some thirty-eight years ago. Black, of course. I’ve owned numerous folding umbrellas over the years and still keep one in my shoulder bag, the one I bought in California some twenty years ago. Like you I’m not one for throwing something out, not if there’s life in it. And Carrie’s the same. Worse even. Once when she was in the States I took it on myself to dispose of a set of kitchen canisters I’d never seen her use and had never used myself and were (or so I believed) nothing more than clutter. Let me tell you I’ve never thrown anything out since. But back to the brolly. I don’t actually use it very often but it pleases me I still have it. Who’d imagine I could get sentimental about an old umbrella? But there you go. So I must’ve been nineteen when I bought it and I remember enjoying the hell out of it. I used to watch old films where men strode around with sticks and canes and never really got what the point of them was. Until I got the brolly. I mean it served no purpose most of the time. If anything if was a hindrance—it wasn’t like a sword I could sheathe—but I, like you, wandered around with it even when the weather was fine. Not just in case, just because.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.com