Follow me on Twitter: @janemcintyre12



I'm Jane McIntyre, a voiceover and writer, formerly an award-winning BBC radio newsreader and producer. My blog covers life, love and loss; travel, coffee and chocolate; with some heartfelt pieces in the mix about my late dad, who had dementia. Just a click away, I'm half of the team behind - two empty nesters who whizzed round the world in 57 days.

Monday 2 February 2015

Year of the Hat* if I`d been listening to Al Stewart on January 1st I`d probably have written this then.

But it was a combination of a biting winter wind, and the song* (similar title, ok?) popping up on Shuffle that made me think about titfers.

As a mum, you spend your life juggling the `hats` you wear. You`re nurse, teacher, chauffeur, cleaner, entertainer...and sometimes law enforcer to your kids. That`s one busy hatstand.

And then suddenly...they grow up; get engaged, plan a wedding...and you realise you`re months away from being M.o.B. And M.o.B and H.A.T go together like a and carriage, or something ...but not really for someone who really doesn`t wear them much in real life. I mean--the bride herself can carry off a hat with aplomb. Mortar boards; that black fedora in Paris; they seem to suit her. But this is new territory for me. So even if I can escape the hat wearing on one side of the pond (it`s a UK-USA relationship- *so good, they`re marrying twice*...)..I might just have to bite the bullet and buy one.

So I`ll call Saturday in Ludlow a dummy run. It was bloody freezing, actually, strolling around town, and I knew that only a hat would fix me. I splashed out a fiver in the Oxfam charity shop for a little black number, donned it, and loved its cosiness. I even took lunch at a table outside Ludlow Cicchetti-- (I reckon it was minus three with the wind chill factor. In fact, the waitress offered me a rug and a few minutes later... a hot water bottle; but no; the hat was working.) (Second thoughts: maybe the hat made me look 89 or something? Sheesh).

Back home; the high shelves remind me of the smiles I`ve had rehoming my late father`s hats. Toppers, a trilby or two, flat caps; reminders of formal state occasions, days out shooting; days at the races. The place is full of them. Sadly--none of them suitable for the M.o.B unless they want me to do a Cabaret number as `the turn` (unlikely).

So...hat wise; this is one big year. In fact...I`ll need some kind of ski number for next week`s trip to see the M.o.H (chief bridesmaid) in Geneva, too, because we`re popping up to the mountains while I`m there. Before that, I`m in London for my cousin`s silver wedding blessing in church. (Hats to those: Does one?) Back home, I might keep my eye open for a big straw number, so I can dream of warm, relaxing summer days ahead. And then there`s the virtual hard hat everyone should keep handy, because, frankly, you never know what a year`s going to throw at you.

So that`s it then; 2015. The year of the hat. With apologies for its late launch. And no.....the one below isn`t the little brimmed number I bought in a charity shop; it`s me showing off on the Royal Yacht in Edinburgh last year. So how about you? Hat or no hat? Pics please...! @janemcintyre12 on Twitter if you`re brave enough.

Happy Monday! :)

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