I smile in the presence of hats.
I laugh in the middle of dance.
I love the bargains in charity shops.
All three? An incredible trance!
(Although! I’ve yet to outright happily dance in a Charity/Thrift Shop….other than inwardly).
There’s a hole in my roof
Where the rain comes in.
So my brain gets decided-ly wet.
If I patch up the hole
With a Spidery Web
Drops spread out the closer they get
There are tricks involved
As rain’s stories unfold
You ‘Weave-dance’. It’s one of the games
Can’t Dance? Wear a hat
But it amplifies noise
And sends you quite insane.
Oh! You like insane?
Well off you trot
For a Cap, a Bowler or Fez
A Trilby’ll do
But it has to be green
The shade? Take a wonderful guess.
A Panama’s fun
But flops when wet.
Covers your peepholes with palm
Not the palm like your hand
But Toquilla….a Straw
Still slaps but causes no harm.
So if rain does invade
Tip taps on your brain
Dance dodge it until it stops
Rain won’t end? Get a hat
The price? Lots of cash
But cheap from a charity shop.
(Both bits of nonsense above by Gray Summers).
The Christys’ Panama Hat above in the top photograph was bought for 50p from a charity/thrift shop. It was a very sad looking, dirty (no….ingrained filthy), smelly, screwed up and forlorn looking affair. Was it worn on the street by an eccentric? What stories inherent? It showed itself to possess so much history. I washed it in spice filled aromatic liquid soap, spoke to it gently, hung it over the sink tap, reshaped best I could and awaited for it to dry. Next morning…….Behold! A wonderful thing of beauty resulted. A Christys’ Hat is a very fine one indeed.