the day of the dead umbrellas

And, yea, there were a multitude.
Many umbrellas died in yesterday’s downpour, this is how I killed mine:

Scramble onto a packed train with my three bags and half closed, dripping umbrella behind me. Squashed back against the door by the crush, I can’t close the umbrella.
I spot a person who I’m trying to avoid.
Spend the rest of the trip being unobtrusive by hiding behind other people.
The train reaches the station and I try to back out the door and make a quick getaway. Juggling bags and attempting to fully open the umbrella while remaining unfettered by unwanted attention from the relevant party was too much. I tripped over my heels and sat down heavily on my umbrella, crushing it beyond any future use. Then realised that I was actually sitting in a puddle.
Kind, strong hands reach down to help me up. Then a voice booms out: “Clear a space – the lady’s fallen over!” (“You haven’t done yer ankle have ya luv?”)
Sigh. So much for remaining incognito. And I have the ignominy of a wet bottom.
Alas my lost umbrella.