Brolly

Those dreaded words -
drifting to our fearful ears through the garage door.
'Don't go out and buy a new one.....I can mend it!'
OH DOOM!! and deep bits with disaster!

Poor broken umbrella, very poorly, but not quite deaded.
Now you face you're worst nightmare.
You are grabbed and carted into the garage.
He is striding his death march - armed with
tape and glue and string and a snorkel and a dingy and oars.
Then hours later - he emerges with the proud smile.
'I've mended it!'
You've become a bent metal spider on a deformed cloth frame- pitiful.
Once a defender of raindrops and icy winds,
Now - well, I fear for you, Brolly.
A clattering, ricketty mess.
You fought the battle of the January storms of '87.
But the electrical tape, and the bailer twine has broken you, my friend.
Poor brolly. Father mended you.