I spotted a discarded, broken black umbrella lodged onto the railings outside of the hotel at St P the other day.
I pulled it out and threw it in the bin.
Next day, another discarded, broken black umbrella appears a little further from the railings, flapping in the wind.
I picked it up and threw it in the bin.
Then I waited for my third one… nothing.
Thankfully though, just a day later a big black and white discarded, broken umbrella flapped its feable limbs at me at the bottom of the steps up to St P. I picked it up, tried to crush it down and then threw it away.
There’s a sense of satisfaction when things happen in threes – why is that?
(I think the two guys looking at me crushing up the third one thought I was weird..).