Rainy days

I probably brought it on myself. Having moaned self-piteously about the hot weather a couple of days ago, the heavens opened overnight to leave me with the prospect of a miserable walk to the subway.

Fortunately, The Special One kindly provided me with an umbrella, seeing that that all mine have either been left in taxis or failed to survive the perilous journey to the other side of the world. Although given that three spokes were broken when we opened it mid-downpour, and the whole thing was about as useful for avoiding rainfall as a half-chewed toothpick with a feather on top, The Special One may have accidentally left her special powers somewhere in the Greek Isles.

Still, always quick with a solution to the problem, she hurriedly rushed me inside a nearby pharmacy to pick up a new umbrella, and the two of us proudly walked out of the store $20 lighter, but with two brand new glistening umbrellas to keep us dry.

In retrospect, maybe we should have been paying more attention when we picked them out, but they just looked like perfectly normal black umbrellas to me. I mean, who could possibly have known that upon removing them from their plastic sheath, a giant “I *heart* NY” logo would be lurking beneath?

So now not only am I a Brit Out Of Water, struggling to come to terms with life in a foreign land, but I’m a Brit Out Of Water with a stonking great sign which I willingly carry above my head to point out to all and sundry that I am an outsider. I may as well affix a large pink neon sign to my back saying “I am a tourist, please spit at me and then rob me.”

Next week I’m going to buy a Statue of Liberty foam crown, and make my way to the city’s swankiest bars. It can’t make me any more conspicuous, after all.

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