I Wore a Hat Today

Am I brave enough? Do I dare?

For a long time I dreamed an impossible dream. To live a different life. To be a different man.

To be the sort of man who wears a hat.

I’d stop discreetly out of eyeline while shopping with The Missus to peruse the little stands. I’d skip past the baseball caps and beanies. I knew what I wanted but I didn’t know how to take that step. To reach out a hand and tickle destiny’s beautiful balls.

I’ll look stupid.

I’ll look vain.

People will stop and point and laugh at me in the street.

‘Look! He’s wearing a hat!’

My missus knew of my crippling insecurities and took that leap for me.

She generously logged on to my Amazon account and, with my own bank details, bought herself quite a few things and picked me up a flatcap for just under four quid.

My angel.

Our birthdays fall only a few days apart and we were celebrating them today. We got dressed up in our finest - I put trousers on for the first time in about four months - and went out for a nice dinner and a couple of drinks.

I limped in to the restaurant, dragging my bad foot behind me like a reluctant toddler, somewhat spoiling the glamorous look of my snazzy new hat, and sat us both down.

All three of us actually. My missus was also there.

She had decided to book the table for 3 o’clock, the same time that the football starts, so my phone joined us and sat comfortably in my hand to let us know the scores as they came in.

The table was getting crowded now, with all four of us sat there in stifled conversation.

My missus was happy though; she had gin.

I actually won fifty quid on a little bet I placed on the football. My missus says I should use it to pay for the dinner. She knows full well the dinner cost more than fifty. My present for her also cost about five times what she spent on me.

I don’t think it would be good for my health to raise these concerns with her.

At least I’ve got a hat.

After dinner we went to our local pub for a couple of pints before my missus went to meet her friends and me and my hat went home. I quickly changed back into a pair of joggers and put my jeans back into storage. I’ll see them again the next time I have a funeral to go to.

My missus is still out, having a whale of a time with her mates. I’m sat here, watching Match of the Day, writing whatever the fuck this is.

Sorry; we’re sat here.

Me and my mate.

Me and my hat.

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