My
black felt hat
Well
look at that! Martyn Fagan is wearing my hat! He thinks it’s a cowboy hat! Daft
sod!
Actually, it’s his hat now, truth be
told. He bought it at the auction, a social event held each year at Red Rose
Cave and Pothole Club headquarters, Bull Pot Farm….. isolated is not the word!
It’s miles from anywhere, but has a lively active membership. Socials, as you
can see here, often end up with several members being under the influence,
bashing our ears with their (cough) musicality.
And
here’s Martyn in full swing. Well slap my thigh and tie me to a runaway
buffalo!
It’s not a cowboy hat at all. It’s a
ladies, slightly retro (I thought when I
bought it) black felt, wide brimmed hat! It cost me £2.99 in the Lidl sale.
It was probably only a fiver at full price, but I wasn’t looking at that. It
fitted the bill perfectly, and I knew I would probably only wear it the once,
so I bought it without hesitation. It would be just right with my long black
wool coat, black boots, black gloves, black handbag, and black mood as I
travelled to the funeral in the black hearse.
Some months later while cleaning up,
or should I say ‘mucking out’, I climbed on the step ladders and pulled it down
from a shelf, getting myself covered in dust in the process. The black felt had
attracted dust like a magnet and was looking quite grey. I flicked the brim and
a cloud engulfed my head making me splutter. Outside with it! I marched out to the garden holding it at
arm’s length, to give it a good bashing against the wall, then I wiped it over
with a damp cloth……. there! Good as new, well, almost. ‘Perhaps I’ll take it to
the charity shop next time I go’, I thought.
Needless to say, I forgot about it
again until I was looking for suitable items to offer up for the annual auction
at the farm. Each year our unwanted items find a second home and raise a few
bob for the caving club in the process. This year the auction was the social
climax to a working weekend, where we all pitched in to clear the car park,
stack firewood and generally build, fix and mend in preparation for the long
winter ahead. Bidding started at 50p! I didn’t want the hat, but I hoped it
would bring more than 50p! As luck would have it, Martyn Fagan had his eye on
it…. after a few beers he obviously didn’t realise it was a ladies hat, and it
finally went under the hammer at £3.50. I was feeling chuffed, that was more
than I paid for it! Ha haaa!
The night went on, auction over, beer
and conversation flowing, out came a harmonica (also provided by me for the auction,) a ukulele (not mine,) and Martyn’s guitar. God
knows what they were playing but I don’t think anyone really cared by then. The fire was roaring and we were all feeling
tired from our earlier efforts. We had been fed and watered, entertained and
now it was time to head home, down the long, long, long, dark, single track
road before we got to anything like civilisation!
Back at the farm, Martyn was sleeping
in a chair by the fire, snoring heavily under the brim of my ex black felt hat!
Susan Osborne.