Today, there was no UberCommute, and indeed no work, as both d and I had out diabetic retinopathy scans - meaning that from 9AM, we had both our eyes dilated, and couldn't read anything for about four hours. We both took the day as annual leave, and so, once the pictures of the backs of our eyeballs were taken, we decided to take advantage of the continuance of Spring to bugger off down to Cardiff for the day.
In the strong Spring sunlight, it was positively comical, me in what, I have to admit, are highly 80s-chic Miami Vice sunglasses (whaddaya want from me, I bought them on a plane to Croatia...), her having (and here I rather hang my head in geographical fuckwit-shame) rather more of a clue of where we were going in my own home town than I did.
Still, had a good day in Cardiff - when we arrive in the city, normally, the first port of call is a Starbucks, because I am if nothing else a creature of addictive habits. Today, d steered me towards the door of the place, and I shrugged.
"I...erm...I don't really want one," I said.
"Wow," she said. "What was in those eye-drops?"
d went and had a little play in Lakeland (a cookware and bakeware store), I went and had a play in HMV (a music and DVD store) - though not, it has to be said, without getting hopelessly lost a couple of times, and having to retrace my steps. In doing so, I found two more Starbucks, one of which was entirely new to me. Still though, I couldn't be tempted...).
We went to John Lewis to talk remote controls and knobs (not remote-control knobs, I should make clear. That would be an entirely different kind of shopping trip),and while there, I did what I often do when in a clothing store - I tried on hats.
I'm a sucker for a good hat. Over the years I've had fedoras, and things that were vague, broad-brimmed bastardisations of fedoras, I've owned or worn at least one top hat and one bowler. I've worn a beanie (though not at first without some considerable protest), my gran brought me back a fez from one of her holidays, and I loved it, I've worn (on some admittedly fairly specialist occasions), a monk's hood, a variety of summer straw hats and panamas, and a multi-horned jester's hat from Cirque Du Soleil. I've even sunk to wearing the occasional baseball cap (though usually only for Comic Relief). There is a photograph, infamous among some of my friends, of me with a collander on my head. Actually, the collander rather suited me...
I blame Peter Davison for all this, by the way. Anyone who knows me or who's reading this blog knows I've been a Doctor Who fan for about thirty years now, and I got into the show when Peter Davison, then the youngest actor ever to take the role, came in. In his first story, when he's choosing his clothes and 'defining' his personality, he tops off a vaguely mad assemblage of items with a rather fine cream panama hat, with a red band. It completely changed the way he looked, and I thought at that moment "Hmm. Hats...I like hats..."
And I've been wearing them off and on ever since. There's something entirely satisfying about pulling on a good hat, and having it be part of you, and it's a thrill that hasn't left me yet.
At the moment, I wear what can probably only really be described as a cowboy hat, though in fairness, I myself have never looked at it that way. It's black and felty and altogether suited me - in my (fairly lonely) opinion. I picked it up on the pier at Bognor a few years ago, and it didn't start suiting me till I started losing weight. It's been, in a number of ways, The Disappearing Hat. But being black and felty, it's also very definitely a winter-friendly hat. Summer-friendly...notsomuch. Many has been the day recently when, having donned the hat in the morning, I've ended up sweltering, pulling it off and carrying it, which then leaves you in the faintly ridiculous position of having to pull the hat back on when you first enter a room, for the "this is me, wearing a hat" impact...and then pull it off again immediately and hang it up.
So today, after a parade of would-be contenders for my paradoxically smallish head, I am now the proud owner of a trilby.
I've heard of trilbys before, but never really thought I could pull them off. The point of hat-wearing of course is that ultimately, believing that you pull it off is crucial to actually pulling it off. Today's trilby is dark blue, and loosely woven, so you get a brisk summer breeze across the top of your bonce, and admittedly, if it rains, you'll still get wet, but for the Spring and Summer, I reckon it'll do me nicely.
Second faintly obscure TV reference coming up here, you might as well get prepared.
"I love the hat," said d, as we walked back towards the bus. "You know who it reminds me of? Johnathon. And, now I think about it, Russell too..."
Johnathon and Russell are two of the more notorious contestants on the US hit reality show Survivor. There was a UK version of Survivor for all of two seasons. It bombed, because - and here I make no pretence - the Brits just couldn't hack it, and basically starved to death. Johnathon and Russell are notorious for their scheming tactics.
"That's is, then," I said. "It'll be my Conniving Hat. I shall sit at my desk and...erm...Connive, in it."
d chuckled.
"Cos you need a Special Hat for that..."
"You don't know," I argued. "I might be Extra-Specially Conniving, now I have the hat to Be it in..."
"Come and have a coffee, Conniving-boy," she laughed. And so I finally did - I went for a single Starbucks, cos after all, it's Monday.
Tomorrow, as I may have mentioned once or twice, is not gonna be good, Nazi-Scaleswise. I guess it is what it is. It is quite likely that I'll be back in the 15 stone region. But then I guess, on we go, and forward. At least I'm going forward in a cool new hat....
"And Tomorrow, Pinky, we take over the world...!"
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