Some rather colourful language was uttered in relation to my solid gold, brand new, red golf umbrella.

after three or four rings, she answered.

She was a little terse. And late for work, as it turned out.

Now when it comes to the spoken word, She Who Still Makes Me Smile each day is mostly rather gentle and easygoing. This was definitely not one of those occasions.

In fact, some rather colourful language was uttered in relation to my solid gold, brand new, red golf umbrella.

She would explain fully later, she said. In the meantime, she had a meeting with her boss to get to. And, with that, she was gone. With the wind. Boom, boom.

An hour or so later, when the hurricane of anger inside her had fizzled out, she rang with her muchanticipated explanation.

She’d made it to her regular carpark and now faced her usual 200-metre or so walk to the front door of her building.

At the time it was bucketing down, with a strong wind joining in the fun.

No worry, she reasoned, instead of her usual small, dainty brolly today she had my big, new, red golf umbrella to keep the elements at bay as she walked.

It took her no more than 20 steps to realise this was not going to be her usual easy stroll.

In fact, such was the wind filling the large surface area of the umbrella that it lifted her onto her tiptoes several times.

It was during the last of these almighty gusts, just as clear air threatened to insert itself into the space between the sole of her shoes and the ground, she decided to let the thing go.

Now, naturally, when you do something like that there are consequences.

In Mrs P’s case, these consequences were two-fold.

Firstly, she was now safe from being lifted off the ground but, secondly, there was now a large red runaway golf umbrella hurtling towards the busy road.

Because she’s a very caring individual, My Beloved gave chase and managed to catch the thing when it got caught in a roadside bush before it did any serious damage to life, limb and/or property.

Unfortunately, during the chase the rain had not relented and Mrs P was soaked to the skin. On finally making it to work she’d headed for the locker rooms to change and the time spent on that endeavour had made her late for her meeting.

I was thankful that she was OK but, if I’m being honest, part of me was trying hard to stifle a giggle as I offered sympathy.

The good news, I said, was that the rain was forecast to ease for her return home later in the day and would not be returning until the weekend.

She agreed that would be good but then offered me some sympathy of my own concerning my planned game of golf at the weekend, which now looked like it would be in the wet.

Particularly as my new, expensive red golf umbrella was now broken beyond repair and in several pieces in the rubbish bin outside Mrs P’s office.