Gone with the Wind

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Friend petrark, 誕生日おめでとう — честит рожден ден — su gimtadieniu!

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‘An umbrella, according to popular superstition, should never be open indoors or you will bring bad luck on all the people residing in the building,’ they say (1, 2).

I never came across this superstition during all my time in Scotland. Not that I had much opportunity to do so: no one could know that I always left my umbrella open to dry in the privacy of my study-bedroom, and at work the British were a minority.

When I was leaving for Edinburgh, I knew, as everyone does, that it rained all the time in Albion and umbrellas were a matter of course. So I took one along, one of those that spring out upon pressing a button, like a Finnish knife.

Now Scotland is a rainy country all right. But very windy as well. Coming from a valley, I wasn't used to powerful wind. Eventually I find out that an umbrella could be worse than useless in a storm, when the wind blows it down from above your head, attempting to snatch it out of your hands and occasionally turning it inside out, and you're standing there struggling to put it together and up again whilst water freely pours upon you from on high.

Neither I nor the wind would give in, therefore the umbrella did. It broke, and I threw it away and went and bought a new one, thinking it might be more robust, being designed for local use.

But presently there was another storm, which caught me on my way to work, an unforetold whirlwind. Determined that it should not get my umbrella, I clenched the fist that held the handle. I shouldd've held it near the spokes, but I hadn't the time to think of that. And then the wind bent the stem in the middle. Not at a right angle, just enough to prevent the umbrella from ever closing again.

On that day I had no choice but to have an open umbrella lying beside me in the office. The worst part, however, was that it was fine weather when I was on my way home. ‘If an umbrella is opened outside when it is not needed, rain, and other bad weather, will follow,’ they say. I hadn't heard about that either, but my mind was occupied by another thought: ‘If one carries an open umbrella outside when it is not needed, one looks like a fool’.

So no more umbrellas in this country, I resolved. When I got home, I deboned the wretched thing, threw away the spokes and sewed the cloth into a most handsome hood, which I wore in rainy weather for the rest of my time in Edinburgh.

This is probably my best sewing experience to date.