Well, hat. And not because it’s wonderfully warm and sunny, but involuntarily. My fabulous tweed cap has proved itself equal to most things, including Britain’s wettest winter since Noah, but it’s just a tiny bit poor at staying on my head in a gale. To be fair, I’m not convinced that any hat could have coped with this morning’s headwind, which was extra blustery, and it did stay on for the first three miles, albeit pulled further and further down my brow until I was basically navigating through a letter box. Eventually, though, I felt it levitate gently off my head as the wind found its way under the peak and then it was bowling away in search of a nice patch of manure to land in.* This is not the first time it’s pulled that trick – I’ve taken to removing it before riding over bridges as a precaution – but I particularly missed it this morning because the wind was also icy and the cap is warmer than a warm thing and can’t do much to keep my head warm if it’s stuffed into my pocket.
So now I need a way of keeping it on my head that doesn’t involve my mother’s suggestion of sewing old pairs of tights into it because I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and wearing my mother’s underwear on my head is where I’ve chosen to draw it. Hat pins (which would have the additional merit of giving me something to fend off buzzards with)? Petersham ribbon (whatever that is)? Moving somewhere less windy?
Suggestions in the comments please. Not you, Mum
* At least this way it will get a nice lived-in look quickly and people will know that I’m not wearing it ironically. I’m pretty sure that even the most dedicated Hackney fashionista rubs muck and bits of straw into their tweed garments to give them that authentic farmyard patina.