Henry's Dad's Hat

So Gail woke me early on Sunday morning with a cheerful shout. "Rise and shine Bertie! The weather forecast is favourable so we are going to climb Morven and search for Henry's Dad's hat."

By the way, a 'favourable' forecast in these parts in early March means little rain, wind less than 20 mph and temperatures above 5ºC.

Now about that hat.

I told you last year  about the special walk up Morven to scatter the ashes of Gail's late friend Kate. What I did not mention before was that, in the process of the scattering, Kate's beloved husband Henry lost his hat in the gale force wind. And this was not just any old hat, rather it was a splendid, characterful Harris tweed affair that used to belong to Henry's father.

Well Henry and friends looked long and hard for the precious headgear on that memorable July day, but time and incipient hypothermia eventually forced abandonment of the search.

I am disappointed to report that, despite roaming far and wide over the rounded summit of Morven, on Sunday I too failed to sniff out Henry's missing hat.

However, the elemental magnificence of the landscape was undiminished.

PS: Sunday in another world entirely, namely Crufts. I can't believe that the wire-haired fox terrier was beaten to Best in Show by a standard poodle. How will I live this down when I next see my poodle cousins Coco and Percy (who is huge)...