Wednesday, 22 June 2011
I've blogged about hats before. I love hats, especially big, extravagant ones, but there are rarely opoprtunities to wear them. I wasn't invited to The Wedding, never go to Ascot - in fact I don't really seem to move in hat-wearing circles. But on Saturday, a much-loved niece and goddaughter is getting married, and I shall wear a hat.
In Devizes, we are lucky enough to have hat heaven; a wonderful, deceptively small, mysterious, beamed cave, where J hires out hats. She has over 2000, many of them displayed round the room in a rainbow of colours, so the choice is huge. She is always kind and helpful, asks to inspect your outfit before producing a hat, adds little bits and bobs to the hat to match, and will make up a little feathery corsage if you want one. Nothing is too much trouble.
So yesterday, off I set to choose a hat. J brought out several, including one which loooked exactly like one of those frilly floppy lettuces (with a lettuce bag to match), but I finally settled on a huge lime green one with an enormous bow, and I'm thrilled with it. As I was about to leave, J, who is probably past retirement age and very glamorous, received some post.
"Oh, good!" she exclamed, on examining its contents. "My Glastonbury tickets have arrived!"
What a woman. What hats. What a place. Oh, boy!