Umbrella Etiquette

First things first: Happy Birthday Ali.


Now, I don’t know if I’ve said it before but it bears saying again; London is a very dichotomous society.

There are those who use manners; sorry, excuse me, sorry, thank you, sorry, pardon me, sorry, my pleasure, sorry, you’re welcome…

And those who do not; I am going to hurl abuse at you because I am annoyed, or because you brushed past me trying desperately to get off the bus, or I am drunk, or you looked at me strangely, or the bus isn’t on time, or the Police are asking me to move in a different direction from the one I wanted to go…

There are those that queue; you were first, please no dearie, I’m sure you was first…

And those that don’t; if you stand at a pedestrian crossing far enough from the curb not to get blind-sided by a buses side-mirror then it is guaranteed that by the time the light turns green, there will be five people standing in front of you.

And then there are those that practice umbrella etiquette; I am going to try not to impale you as you are walking down the street, I will lift and angle my umbrella away from yours so that they don’t catch and clash.

And those don't; I will quite happily use my umbrella as a weapon of mass destruction, scratching, gauging, ripping and swiping you without giving a frig as to the damage I'm causing and look at you like you were a piece of trash when you squeal in agony.

I prefer to be one of the former on all counts… it’s the way I’m hard wired I guess. And I’m not going to apologise for saying sorry! :-) But I will admit, in terms of the English fascination with manners, the umbrella dance holds a special place in my heart and has me transfixed every time I see it.

This morning it was raining, and for some reason known only to my deepest unconscious, I decided to walk to work. Well, when I say rain, it was really only spitting or misting. London rain often lacks commitment – which makes for a bit of difficulty on the umbrella front; to use or not to use, that is the question. You’re kinda damned if you do and damned if you don’t, as either way, you still get rather convincingly wet. However, this morning there were more umbrellas in evidence than there were people sodden and bearing it, so the Umbrella quadrille was in full swing.

Whenever it’s wet, you will see the polite Londoners, umbrellas aloft, dancing around, trying to avoid each other’s spokes and still maintain the semblance of rain-coverage. The often colourful circles rise and fall, dip and glide, pirouette and curtsy in an intricate dance of consideration and civility. It’s quite entrancing to watch when it works, to see everyone manage to thread the fine line between a dry walk and hopeless entanglement, especially at those points of convergence such as Tube Station exits. And yet, in a second, it can all be ruined by the boorish, stubborn, unmannerly care-nots who prefer to fight and impale rather than be courteous and dance.

Thankfully this morning I only encountered one boor, and it was only a minor contretemps, his umbrella suffering more than mine I fancy, and I arrived safely, if a tad damp, at work. But the rest of the walk was pure spectacle and very amusing!