Mrs Town’s head exploded; her face into shards festooning fabric and floor.
Not the first time, mind you. This is normal for her.
Nigel John is her complete opposite. Look at him there slouching handsome movie star style and smirking; rocking 70s leather cap hat, never unstable. Always cool and calm. Such a dude.
Mrs Town loves to be the big noise and centre of attention. Pop Madonna-esque is her style; crowning red satin and fur fake brim, topped with a jewel hatpin. But that look is ruined now; all sat forlorn where it landed, headless and wanting.
Nevertheless, they are both excellent company.
So here we are New Year’s Eve. The old laundry bag beckons, these days stuffed with headwear homage to my life now ended.
Once these hats and I went out; dancing and laughing. We travelled the world. But that’s all gone now. My fault.
All I have are the balloons, with gentle felt tip pen and steady hand. This is how I party.
So who to replace Mrs Town, now she’s ‘popped’ off? Nigel John, who do you fancy? Madame Beaumont perhaps, or Sweet Trixie Joe?