Seriously, though. It's fucking disgusting out there. Today started out alright, I even put on a summery dress and flip flops. Now flip flops are not really an item of footwear I like to be associated with unless I am actually on the beach but I don't currently have any viable alternative in the flat, summery pump/more eleganter sandal department (and God knows, I can't afford to buy any) but thank God I did don them for they are made of rubber and by 12 noon THE STREETS WERE AWASH. Seriously, I have just discovered I have watermarks on my heels. And gravel and OTHER DETRITUS.
This is a grave, grave state of affairs. One of the first phrases I learnt when I moved here was "Ich freue mich auf den Sommer", anticipating many long afternoons supping Augustiner in the Volkspark chatting to my elegant Deutsch friends about barbeque techinques and Marxism. But no, what am I doing instead? Trudging through enormous puddles and having epic and awkward battles with my umbrella on the tram.
Now, you'd think that being Irish and all I would be some kind of umbrella ninja/Zen master but you see having lived in Dublin for some years I am out of practise. This is because rain rarely shows his face in Dublin without his good pal wind (who is a total, total cunt) who enjoys blowing rain (this analogy is getting decidely out of hand, sorry) into one's face at an angle of 90 degrees so an umbrella is pointless and stupid and trying to carry one just makes you look like a dick as either you have to hold it vertically in front of your face or it blows inside out. So umbrellas and I are not on the best of terms. Particularly this new umbrella (which, to be fair, I got for free as apparently "if you have a penis you can't have an umbrella" and therefore must give them away to ladies) I find myself in the company of. First of all its got one of those buttons which makes it open itself at alarming speed, with little to no heed paid to those standing immediately in front. Except that this one doesn't open fully but rather charges forth only to adopt a sort of wilted posture. What I am currently carrying around town is the umbrella embodiment of premature ejaculation, if you will. But will the damn thing then close in a humble or appropriately shamefaced manner? Hells no, you have to wrestle with the damn thing, pushing its end into the wall of the tram and sliding all over the damned wet, slippy floor in the process, to the amusement of many a German who, naturally, all have normal, well-behaved umbrellas.
If you'll excuse me I have to go out now, and God knows how long it'll take me to get him into my bag.