My Wooly hat

The weather has turned in a colder, chillier kind of way.

I felt the climatic change about 3 week ends ago. I had to put a waistcoat over my t-shirt when I took Boris out for a walk, especially in the evening. Gone are the dreich but still mild summer and autumnal days, now we have the wind and the rain. Being about 800 feet above sea level and fairly exposed means that if there is a wind it’s brisk and chilly.

I am now also wearing my dog walking helmet

This hat was bought in a souk in Marrakech from a Berber trader who although agreeing to have his picture taken hid behind some of his products such were his beliefs, but he was a cheery bloke, so good luck to him. It was bought as part of a pair such was the “bargain” offered (our deal probably fed his family for a week) and I also have a black and white one.

It has proteced my folliculary challenged heid for a few winters now and also acted as protection against knocks, scratches and bumps. People with hair really do not appreciate the protective qualities of the hair on their head or indeed the covering ability this hair provides. Whenever I bump my head there is usually blood or at least a scratch and sometimes I have gone into a meeting looking like I have been rolling around the gutter on a Saturday night, When in actual fact I have had a tree branch fall on my head.

That happened a few years back when both boys where still under the family roof and we had two dogs. The boys, the hounds and me were out for a walk in the woods participating in japery, as you do, when I decided to swing from a tree branch, Tarzan style. The aforementioned  branch decided “b***** this he’s too fat” and sacrificed the limb. Meaning I crashed to the ground, kindly offering my noggin as a crash pad for the tree limb. The boys rushed to my side offering assistance and shoulders to support me on as I groggily giggled. The dogs offered their opinion by sticking their snouts in and trying to lick the blood. With my gang supporting me we walked back to the house. Plan B of building a litter out of branches and twigs for me to be pulled by the dogs was not required, thankfully.

This incident was pre-Berber hat and if I had it on the injury would have been less obvious. However the hat has been of assistance to other creatures as you may spot in this photo.

The hole was made by a mouse driven into the house one Christmas Eve during a particularly cold spell who decided that Berber wool was just the thing to boost his calorific intake. I have a more romantic idea that Mr. Mouse was out collecting presents for the family. On Christmas morning all the wee mouse boys and girls opened their presents of Berber wool which had been fashioned by Mrs. Mouse into a variety of hats, jumpers, socks and a hoodie for their teenage mouse who accepted it in a surly disinterested way but actually was as pleased as punch with his new cool hoodie. For Mrs Mouse, Mr Mouse had raided the fridge and brought home a 200 gram piece of her favourite – Brie.

I have not bothered to have the hole darned as its now part of the hats history.