A wintery weekend in Blacbury. Barkles really doesn't enjoy the cold and then gets frustrated at being confined indoors. Still we get out for a good stroll over the common and the rainy weather gives me chance to road test a new umbrella - a custom made black silk classic English with ivory handle.
On Saturday I see a taxi driver in a black cab smoking a pipe. This naturally leads me thinking about Magritte (c'est non un pipe) and I spend a pleasant evening by the fire with a robust rioja, thumbing through my Magritte book. Belgian he may have been but he recognised the symbolism of umbrellas and I defy anyone to gaze upon Les Vacances de Hegel without a lump forming in the throat.
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