It is Monday, winds are so strong across the British Isles that we have been advised not to travel unless very unnecessary.
I am quickly rushing across shops ready for Christmas, two days away. As I speed around, violent gales are blowing umbrellas off people’s hands. I watch an elderly woman battling with the gadget- a classic argument with nature.
Umbrella says: “Let me protect her. I cost her money, you know. I am expensive.”
Wind replies: “You can’t. I am strong. I am the universe.”
Umbrella protests: “Have you nothing else to do? Why don’t you go to the distant valleys where you belong? What are you doing in our cities?”
Wind blasts harder; making noises, offering a cruel and distasteful expression.
The hand of the woman tries desperately to hold on to the plastic handle of the umbrella. The upper part of the rain shield cannot resist the power of the brutal teeth of air and tearing gusts.
Woman fails to walk with such challenging gusts. She lets go. Umbrella falls off her hands, wind dashes off victorious, looking for another victim.