... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Monday, January 10, 2011

172: hats and crack and toys and hats

I used to pride myself on my wide range of hats.  Quirky ones, warm ones, twattish ones and cool ones.  I had a cream-coloured Technics visor but I spilt red wine on it; I had a purple fleece pork pie hat, but it was so ridiculous I chucked it; there were many others, but time has reduced them until the nadir of last month.  I had a gigantic Russiany brown one twice the size of my head and with great big ear flaps.  A year ago I left it at my future in-laws house in Northern Ireland.  They posted it back and I proceeded to lose it again.  I had a nice simple grey beanie with a tiny peak, but I lost that too.  Many others came and went, until the cold snap in December saw me with just an ancient thin flimsy blue beanie; no use for keeping warm at all.

In Belfast a couple of days before Christmas I picked up a fantastic flappy hat, with warm furry bits, a sort of dogtooth/zigzag patten, and a subtly branded Guinness (Dublin Ireland 1759 Trademark) logo over one of the ears.  I got it in a Irish tourist tat shop full of shamrock this, bodhrán that, and cèilidh the other; lots of fridge magnets of leprechauns and mock o’olde plaques full of mock Irish bollocks about the craic (read here for why the craic is a load of bollocks).  My shopping bag was also leaden with NI fridge magnets, a Giants Causeway mug, a tiny Belfast t-shirt for my godson, Guinness playing cards and a load of Titanic/Belfast docks postcards.  Good crack.

Then on Christmas day I unwrapped an awesome matching hat and scarf set (given to me by my very generous future mother-in-law).  They are black and grey chequered, and the hat proudly balances a large bobble.  Suddenly my hat levels were climbing back up to acceptable levels.  I pulled out my hat-dipstick, gave it a wipe, popped it back in, and when I drew it out again it indicated a health amount of headgear.

At my own parents for New Year and they returned to me my lost grey beanie, meaning I was peaking dangerously; top-heavy and topple-prone.  And just ten minutes ago, the event that prompted today’s blog post.  I yawned and stretched from my desk, leaned back in my chair with eyes closed, and when I opened them I saw across the room my big brown Russiany flap-hat.  It sits atop a cuddly toy banana with an angry face and hands that look like kidneys (an unlikely souvenir from an Osakan fish market).  It’s part of my oh-look-I’m-quirky-and-interesting collection of crap that is a substitute for actually having a personality, which includes a great pile of toy octopuses, Peruvian masks, children’s drawings, two toy TNT lorries (still in the packets), and a stylophone with Rolf’s smiley face on the box.

Hats, hats, hats.  And Japanese stuff, and octopuses, and books.  That is all.  Thank you and goodnight.

No comments: