If umbrellas were children, I'd now be in prison for abandonment, abuse and neglect.

Today saw the sad demise of the latest in a long line of RTB brollies, as it was ruthlessly whipped to within an inch of its life and brutally turned over by that notorious umbrella mugger, the Wind.

You've got to feel for this brolly. Just yesterday it was safe and secure in its hiding place at the back of the cupboard, quietly going about its business of lying motionless and being of no use to anyone, since everyone had completely forgotten it existed. (Doubtless, this was due in no small measure that RTB had in the past been known to be unfairly prejudiced against it, thanks to its unfortunate lurid green colour.)

However, thanks to the recent reckless abandonment of its more sober black brother in a city centre branch of a well-known high street bank, a frantic early morning search stripped Vile Green Brolly of its cosy hiding place and submitted it to the rough elements of a classic British summer. With devastating consequences.

And yet, amidst this raging storm of despair, a faint ray of hope emerged as, just this weekend, RTB was introduced to an individual who could perhaps break this cycle of neglect and abuse.

Super-Dooper Golf Brolly is a strapping fella, big enough to protect RTB and several bags of shopping, and with a built-in storm-resistant layer of fabric that can shrug off attacks of the most vicious Wind with enviable ease.

He stands firm in the face of abuse that would make his brothers crumble. Which, for a woman looking for dependable shelter in this cold, cruel city, could be exactly what RTB needs.

However, the sad truth is that RTB is simply too stingy to fork out the required money to secure the services of Super-Dooper Golf Brolly. Especially when she a) doesn't play golf, and b) knows that she is stil more than likely to leave him on a bus within the next fortnight. Old habits die hard, after all.

It seems somewhat ironic and unfair to RTB that she, with her wretched track record with brollies, happens to live in a city where umbrella ownership is an intrinsic part of the culture; nay, more than this, a basic necessity of human life.

But perhaps, from the umbrellas' perspective, the confirmed brolly neglector is simply getting what she deserves.