Adventures of a flat red cap.
In the beginning, of course, it was only me, sitting in a daft, drafty, dusty, horrid little shop somewhere in a one-horse town called God knows what. And then one day, in walked this wrinkled, badly dressed old man, gave me a look-over and mumbled something that sounded like “will do”, and the next thing I know I was out of the shop and brutally dumped on the dusty seat of a dirt soiled bakkie and carted off like garbage.
And so my life outside that pathetic shop began … as a prop. An artefact, a thing on the head of a balding old man pretending to be an artist, painting what he called a self-portrait. He, of course, thought he was the most important object in the painting. That was until people started to ask: “What the hell is that on your head in that painting?”
It was then that I knew I was destined to become famous. People talked about me, not about the deluded painter of portraits, no, they noticed me because I was no ordinary, run of the mill old hat or flat cap or cabby or paddy cap as we are referred to on that pretentious little island way up North. I am special, so I thought … and was dumped, again and unceremoniously into the same dirty old truck and carted off on the first of many adventures, meeting interesting people, hearing their stories and seeing strange and wonderful things and places. But the traveling life is not always fun and games, especially if your traveling companion is a bit of a nut case.
Bear with me, and I will tell you all about my travels and meetings with strange, sometimes funny but more often stupid people.