I think it would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t have such a small head.
Finding a hat, I mean. And in this chilly
winter weather, I really do think I need one more than ever. But hats just don’t suit me – possibly on account of the smallness of my head, though there could, I am prepared to admit, be other reasons which I would find less palatable.
On the Pulse bus which took us into town this afternoon, I studied the headgear of my fellow passengers. Both men and women because these days anything goes, you know. Several
people were sporting that woolly type of hat which I think is known as a “beanie”, though goodness only knows why. I feel a beanie would probably accentuate the smallness of my head and therefore is to be avoided, lest people start calling me “Pinhead”.
Mr B’s old headmaster was nicknamed Pinhead for the same reason. Though I can’t imagine he ever wore a beanie.
There’s an extremely smart woman
wearing a kind of trilby hat at a rakish angle. This might be worth considering, trilbies being very stylish these days (says I, who doesn’t know what I’m talking about.) I particularly like the rakish angle. I read an article in some paper last
week which analysed the different angles at which the Duchess of Cambridge wore her many hats. In her case, it seemed, the more vertiginous the better. Obviously, our Kate doesn’t have a small head, or she would be having the same trouble as me
every time she had to open a museum or visit an old people’s home. Apparently she chooses hats that enable people to see her face. I need to decide whether this is a consideration for me when choosing my own headgear. Or, quite possibly,
There’s a trio of lovely lasses at the front of the bus wearing those fancy knitted hats with woollen plaits hanging down each side of their heads.
I could probably knit myself one of these though I doubt it Mr B would be seen out with me wearing one. Likewise the Davy Crockett hat sported by another fellow passenger – it might have been a man or a woman, when you are all wrapped up against
the bitter chill, it’s sometimes hard to tell. Mr B says if I am prepared to go that far, then perhaps a Biggles flying helmet might be just the ticket. It would demonstrate my adventurous nature. If I had one, that is.
I do own a few hats of my own. I have two “Wedding Hats” and a “Funeral Hat”. None of them would be appropriate to wear on the Pulse bus going into town. The purchase
of the Wedding Hats caused me enormous grief because as Mother of the Bride or Mother of the Groom, one is expected to set a certain standard. Indeed, my finest Hat Hour was at the Middle of the Darling Daughter’s wedding eight years ago. I should
explain that she organised her whole wedding in five days which didn’t allow that much time for shopping – but a good friend of mine came to the rescue and lent me her entire Mother of the Bride outfit. The shoes were a size too big as was
the dress, but you wouldn’t have noticed because the whole outfit was topped (quite literally) by an absolutely enormous brimmed hat. So big was the brim that it was difficult, not to say dangerous, for anyone to sit either side of me in the front
row at the Register Office without getting an eye-full of navy blue straw. Obviously I had to return this spectacular piece of millinery to its owner so it is no longer in my possession. But to be fair I‘m not sure when I’d be able to wear it again,
with all my children safely married off.
When I was at school, the wearing of hats was compulsory – grey felt in the winter, straw boater in the summer.
If a prefect caught you walking to school without your hat she would give you a Black Mark. Maybe this is why I am so resistant to the Wearing of Hats these days?
Actually I think the grey felt might look OK on me now, so long as I removed the school badge (which would, let’s face it, look a bit silly.) Maybe I should find a school outfitters and pretend I am buying for a non-existent child?
One with a small head, of course.