the politics of walking with an umbrella

the other day it was raining, so i chose to take the longest, largest umbrella i had.
i found it on a park bench a while ago. i sat & waited with a friend for 35 minutes and no one arrived to claim it, ergo, it was mine.

it is a strange thing, walking with an umbrella. firstly, we must distinguish between walking with an umbrella in the rain vs walking with an umbrella in the event of rain.
now, the former we are all accustomed to - gripping tight to an umbrella being torn away by gusts of wind, the etiquette of passing people in the street without poking out eyes, pointing it into, not away from, the wind & the rain. you all get the picture. i usually cycle everywhere so i can't be bothered with umbrellas, but this time around i was walking. on the way home, the rain had subsided and i came to a much more difficult point: what do i do with my cane-like umbrella now that it's not raining?

i thought back to an almanac i read a couple years back that included instructions on how to walk with an umbrella, or use it as a walking stick.

now, unless you have a dphil, wear tweed and flannel comfortably outdoors and are over the age of 50, you have no right to be walking with a cane or you look like this twat:

or this one:

i can't for the life of me recall it, but there was a specific method that carefully calculated the amount of steps you need to take per each tap of the umbrella (used as a walking cane in this instance). however, there were also (un)clear rules about the differences in walking with a folded umbrella and an actual walking cane. either way, it was much more scientific than it looked.

what baffled me, however, was that in the process of trying to find some sort of existence of this almanac, i have come across numerous websites that

a) want to sell me victorian walking sticks

b) teach me how to deal with osteoarthritis & getting used to a cane

c) explain 'how to walk in the rain'

d) show me pictures of rihanna

go figure.