My mother had a pill-box hat made of tiny pale blue feathers
sweeping round the circular shape. She wore it for my aunt and uncle’s wedding.
She didn’t like hats much. They were for church and special occasions. A
headscarf would do for popping to the shop, a stroll on the windy promenade or
for keeping her hair neat on the walk back from the hairdressers.
My granddad never went out without his signature tweed
Trilby. He might have had more than one, I don’t know, but he didn’t object to
me dressing up in it when I was little. The inside rim was shiny with his Brylcreem
and it smelt sweet, like him.
I’ve recently been knitting cardigans and matching hats for
my new baby granddaughter, Matilda. I love making children’s clothes and each
item is a one-off, for a particular little person.
Crochet is not my speciality, I’m a bit hit and miss with
it, apart from Afghan square blankets, but I managed to design and make Minion
character hats for a local primary school Christmas Fayre. I’m not looking to
give up my day job on the strength of it, not just yet.
I miss working with infants, especially literacy and reading.
There is so much to learn from the four-to-sevens when looking at their world
and listening to their stories. The
developing imagination of a child is fascinating. I’m starting to introduce well-loved stories
and poems to my grandchildren. A current
favourite is The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Soon we’ll be on to Dr Seuss and Edward Lear.
I don’t mind if they grow up thinking that I am completely bonkers as long as
they remember having lots of fun. And that I always dressed ‘in character’ for
the benefit of the children who knocked on my door at Hallowe’en.
Apart from my black, pointed, witchy thing with the
illuminated spider on the side, I’m not really one for wearing hats. I have a
couple of home-made knitted ones for very cold weather that also keep my hair
off my face in the wind. I’ve got a wide-brimmed sun hat for sitting in the
garden and a ‘posh’ hat that I wore for a wedding, once. Me and hats don’t get
on. It’s really my hair. I’m burdened with very fine, flyaway hair that reacts
badly when I take a hat off. Most of all, I hated my compulsory senior school
hat.
Someone else must have hated my school hat, too, because the
first thing she did when she got on the same bus home was to grab it off my
head and kick it all over the dirty floor, encouraging her friends to join in.
This was a slightly older girl from another school. I knew her by sight from
being in the year above me at the same junior school. I would already be on the
bus for a short time before it reached her stop and I would dread her arrival. She snatched the hat out of my hand once, when
I tried to stop her getting it and another time it was my satchel that got
thrown all over the place. Eventually, I agreed that my mother should intervene
and she telephoned a complaint to the bully-girl’s school. Whatever was said
and how it was dealt with worked. There was no alternative, we had to share the
same bus, but she never bothered me again.
Amongst my special keep-sakes is the beautiful hat my late
mother-in-law chose to wear for our wedding. It’s a pretty, navy blue satin pill-box
hat, trimmed with navy net and a bow of navy velvet. A memento of a lovely lady
from a wonderful day.
I hope my choice of an Edward Lear poem raises a smile,
The Quangle Wangle's Hat
I
On the top of the
Crumpetty Tree
The
Quangle Wangle sat,
But his face you
could not see,
On
account of his Beaver Hat.
For his Hat was a
hundred and two feet wide,
With ribbons and
bibbons on every side
And bells, and
buttons, and loops, and lace,
So that nobody ever
could see the face
Of
the Quangle Wangle Quee.
II
The Quangle Wangle
said
To
himself on the Crumpetty Tree, —
"Jam; and jelly;
and bread;
"Are
the best of food for me!
"But the longer
I live on this Crumpetty Tree
"The plainer
than ever it seems to me
"That very few
people come this way
"And that life
on the whole is far from gay!"
Said
the Quangle Wangle Quee.
III
But there came to the
Crumpetty Tree,
Mr.
and Mrs. Canary;
And they said, —
"Did every you see
"Any
spot so charmingly airy?
"May we build a
nest on your lovely Hat?
"Mr. Quangle
Wangle, grant us that!
"O please let us
come and build a nest
"Of whatever
material suits you best,
"Mr.
Quangle Wangle Quee!"
IV
And besides, to the
Crumpetty Tree
Came
the Stork, the Duck, and the Owl;
The Snail, and the
Bumble-Bee,
The
Frog, and the Fimble Fowl;
(The Fimble Fowl,
with a corkscrew leg;)
And all of them said,
— "We humbly beg,
"We may build
out homes on your lovely Hat, —
"Mr. Quangle
Wangle, grant us that!
"Mr.
Quangle Wangle Quee!"
V
And the Golden Grouse
came there,
And
the Pobble who has no toes, —
And the small
Olympian bear, —
And
the Dong with a luminous nose.
And the Blue Baboon,
who played the Flute, —
And the Orient Calf
from the Land of Tute, —
And the Attery
Squash, and the Bisky Bat, —
All came and built on
the lovely Hat
Of
the Quangle Wangle Quee.
VI
And the Quangle
Wangle said
To
himself on the Crumpetty Tree, —
"When all these
creatures move
"What
a wonderful noise there'll be!"
And at night by the
light of the Mulberry moon
They danced to the
Flute of the Blue Baboon,
On the broad green
leaves of the Crumpetty Tree,
And all were as happy
as happy could be,
With
the Quangle Wangle Quee.
by Edward Lear, 1812 - 1888
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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