They say that old habits die hard. Well I'm starting to find that new ones are just the same. I have recently begun to adopt the charming Madrileñan habit of sizing everyone up on the metro, giving them a good staring to see what they'd opted for - possibly even giving the gracious nod of approval favoured here that doesn't in the least bit seem patronising whatsoever! (I jest, of course, but it does appear to be somewhat of a national pastime.) I am now almost unable to cease.
But it resulted that my tendency towards colour in clothing = frowned upon. Brown is to the Madrileña as black is to the Parisienne. Let's just say the coral raincoat currently in my possession attracts more than a passing glance because it's too darn bright and happy in stark contrast with the humble taupes, tans, and other such suave and sombre shades. But I just can't resist - any chance to brighten up a grey wintery day...
The one saving grace here, therefore, is the sea of umbrellas that pops open amid the puddles, little personal rooves of all colours and sizes, a sea of technicolour canvas. It brightens up the drizzle with an uncomplicated grace, ebbing and flowing as its' bearers weave their way about town. For a city so daubed in serene elegance and subtle tones, the affinity towards bright brollies is a sight to behold. Dream.
And so I marched on with my own brightly-coloured 'bumbershoot' (rumour has it we Brits are to thank for this word - definitely not as far as I can tell, but a marvellous manipulation of the English tongue it is too!) proudly held high against the downpour, and quietly rejoiced to myself in the merriment of the melée. Next time you're dodging the droplets why not glance about to appreciate these little splashes of colour: sure, they're not a real sunshine-induced rainbow, but they're far more tangible than any leprechaun pot of gold, that's for certain!
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