Talk To The Hat

Day 278: There's a story among those of us who have spent a good portion of our lives alone, and I first heard it related about a fence-rider in the Australian Outback. A new-chum happened upon him one day while he was holding forth an animated argument with his hat where it was jammed down on a post, and reported back to his mates at the bunkhouse that the poor old sod was going a bit barmy and might be due for a spell back among human companions. "Nah, 'e's orright," the new-chum was told. "Not to worry, so long as the 'at don't answer 'im back."

I haven't reached the point at which the hat responds in kind, although I do discuss the price of tea in China with various rocks, trees and small wildlife, and have been known to reproach a piece of barbed wire with an epithet and a demand to "Gimme back my sleeve, willya? I don't have all day to stand here waitin' for you to let go of me. I've got work to do." Brambles are often accosted in much the same manner, as are puncheon bridges which grab the point of a walking stick, refusing to give it up to allow me a normal walking pace. It sometimes seems that objects have minds of their own, particularly when met in Nature, but so far, none has expressed itself within my hearing.