Girl About Globe | Parasol rage

Linda Kennedy

An exchange between two parasol-holding ladies, parading in different directions on a Beijing pavement.
‘Yours up?’
‘Up YOURS!’

Ah, yes, the recent harsh sun in Hong Kong has brought back some mainland memories.

Seven years ago, during my first Beijing summer, I watched with amusement as June arrived and women started carrying parasols. How Edwardian. Ni hao, sunscreen? Heard of it?

Two weeks into summer, and I was gripping onto one for dear life. Imagine midday on planet Mercury, and you had a comparable ferocity to the rays. Sunscreen? SPF-off, mate. It got perspired into a personal puddle within ten paces.

Even short journeys resulted in spoke-offs. A spoke-off is a parasol incident – a major jostle with another woman’s pointy-bits (and it is always women. The first man with a parasol will eventually come, given the rise of metrosexuals, but his canopy will be black and called a ‘man shield’).

Every spoke-off was the same. I lowered my parasol and glowered. The other woman just glowered. Every time I had to change altitude to avoid a mid-air collision. There was not one parasol that registered descent (is the mainland so scared of dissent that anything sounding like it is avoided too?).

I was muttering throughout these spoke- offs, benefiting from the language barrier, convinced most wouldn’t recognize a verbal put-down, let alone the need to enact that procedure in relation to their parasol.

On the seventh spoke-off, China’s first case of parasol rage was unofficially recorded.

‘Sooo sorry, didn’t mean to get in your way,’ murmured quietly turned into a rather louder ‘why don’t you bloody lower yours, eh?’

You know how it goes with luck. This parasol foe understood enough English to engage in a tactical discussion – ‘yours up?’ – but I was not to be consoled. Which is when the ‘UP YOURS’ shout came. Lest there be confusion, I was not encouraging her parasol be elevated to permit passage of us both.

She still didn’t lower.

I wanted to challenge her to a duel. Parasols at dawn? Then I thought: you wouldn’t need one then.

I always wanted the law to get involved. Couldn’t the National People’s Committee for the Function of Making Very Vital Laws (I paraphrase) recognize parasol rage? China’s legal system then – and still – is in its early stages. Surely the field remains wide-open in terms of setting precedents? Red in the face – part fury, part the effect of sun exposure during repeated parasol-lowering – I planned my moment in court. I would be a ‘parasol-legal’, arguing on behalf of the polite parasol carrier. Parasol rage would be a new crime. Those provoking it would be ‘utter par’sols’.

Now the issue has re-emerged during last week’s blistering sun in Hong Kong, I am considering turning to the legal system here. It’s still independent, right? Anyway, parasols are patriotic.

It’s the assault on my civic pride, as well as my complexion, that stings. Being from rain-soaked Glasgow, I thought there was nothing involving brolly-like implements I couldn’t handle. Given how species evolve to cope with their environment, it’s just a matter of time before Glaswegians develop three arms so they can carry on the normal business of life and still hold an umbrella. With this heritage, I’d assumed I’d be able to outshine anything – including the Beijing or the Hong Kong sun – when it came to deftly manoeuvering a similar sun shield. But parasols, it seems, are different. Until the parasol rage law comes in, either here or on the mainland, I’ll just have to put up and shut up. As required.