As I slowly lower my hands I realise hurricane Aberdeen has claimed another victim. Not only does my hair look like I have had electro shock therapy but my beloved hat is gone. Even though I had desperately clung to my hood despite 100 mph winds altered large structures around me I was doing this in a vain attempt the save them both from a terrible fate. So now as I hastily rush for the bus I am met by stares and whispering due to the general public’s surprise at seeing an escaped mental patient clinging desperately to her juicy Couture handbag as it whips from side to side on Belmont Street.
After confirming it from my bank manager (aka my mum) I began my search for the perfect hat. Many things must of course be put into consideration in this all important decision. My round face reminiscent of a football prohibits the wearing of beanies unless I want to look like Cartman from South Park. Taking inspiration my magazine seemed like a good idea at the time until a picture of Rihanna sporting a bell boy’s hat was blazed across the page. I find that since I do not own a black and white hat I should avoid the Postman Pat look, although on second thoughts the latest Royal Mail strike could tempt me into the profession. As I continue my exhausting journey through black hole that is the internet red bull and jelly babies at the ready I find the perfect hat………the one I had. Now after having my sudden moment of eureka and blinding my flatmates with the light bulb of knowledge I revert back to sulking and mourn over my lost hat with the black clothes at the ready.
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