I found out a new fact about myself this week. I can never ever wear a hat. I’m going on holiday to sunny Ibiza next week and I’ve been trying to find a hat to prevent a forest fire breaking out on my head. Each one I tried has provoked howls of laughter from onlookers, (some of them had to be rushed to hospital). Hats either make me look like someone has balanced a pile of giant tiddlywinks on my head or a Victoria sponge has fallen from the window of a high rise bakery as I sauntered, hatless, along the street below.
I think it might be because I have a head the size of a peanut. Therefore all head gear seems to sit ridiculously low down on me; covering my eyebrows, sometimes my eyes, sometimes my nose, sometimes my knees. I’d love to be able to wear a really cool hat but I think you may need to be a really cool person to do that so… no chance of that then. I did eventually buy one but it was a cop out really because it was really just a baseball cap. Even that, I just know that it makes me look like some bloke called Bubba who likes to stroke a piece of velvet all day.