Twirly Twirl

Pardon my swearing, but it's bloody hot. And maybe it's causing a neuron short circuit, since all I can think about is what a perfect little possession the object on the left would make. Perfect to do anything in, whether it's going flapping around the chimneypots (question: do we even have chimneys in India, in places that are not hill stations?) à la Mary Poppins, or perhaps even what my frazzled brain is urging me to- buy an utterly useless little bit of frivolity, open it out and go trotting down Brigade Road singing Yellow Submarine to myself. With a twirl to the handle, of course. Never mind that all the foot-stamping in the world isn't going to get me this piece of prettiness all for my very own, but I do hope the girl who's got it (because the world can't be so dumb as to leave whimsical beauty like this lying unclaimed on a shelf somewhere) appreciates it.