THE TRAGICAL HISTORIE OF THE STRAW HAT.1926


















"Boys will be allowed to wear straw hats in the summer term,"-so went the message forth...... We felt that we were on the eve of epoch-making events. Our hearts began to flutter, our pulses to beat, our eyes to sparkle in anticipation.
In due time school hat-bands arrived, but there were no straw hats. In due course the summer term arrived, but without straw hats. In due order the June weather arrived, and straw hats became a meteorological impossibility.
But (as many a detention philosopher has observed) all things come to an end, and after some weeks, during which even the gentlemen who arrange cricket fixtures had lost much of their optimism, the rain stopped, and still the straw hats remained in bashful seclusion.
One day, however, when the term was well advanced, and cricketers and cricket- pitches had become very sunburnt, a certain prefect was seen to be deep in thought, always an extremely bad sign. And next day, lo and behold! this same prefect actually arrived before the very portals of the School, crowned in the much dreamt of, but hitherto only dreamt of, straw hat, a beautiful hat of straw, encircled by band of red and black, fronted with the School crest, and more beautiful to gaze upon than all the hats of Walthamstow.
We will not describe in detail the sensation that was caused. During the morning break, the proud owner ventured to steal a glance at his hat, in the manner of one inspecting a recently acquired white mouse, timidly, perhaps, but with all the pride of possession. There it was, the centre of an admiring group. Small boys eyed it with awe and wonder. Their immediate seniors allowed perhaps more than a demure smile of respect-able astonishment to betray their feelings; while more lofty youths, taking advantage of their prefectorial status, ventured to try on the bashful head-covering. Passing masters gave it that smile of mingled curiosity and sympathy, which was once habitually bestowed on the present writer's chemical note-book.
At the end of morning school, the great man, adopting that swinging stride of one who is conscious of a great deed, set out for home. His way lay along High Street. High Street is, of course, accustomed to straw hats, but only to those mournful black-banded straw hats, which elderly gentlemen carefully remove from cold storage immediately, but never before, May is out. It is not used to our glorious distortion of that respectable fashion. Accordingly, as our prefect progressed, his pace began to slacken a little, his square shoulders to droop slightly, and his tongue to be put to base ends, sotto voce.
At his approach, an apparently unemployed gentleman, engaged in animated equine conversation at a street corner, suddenly embedded his right elbow in the regions of his com-panion's waistcoat pocket, accompanied this movement with an upward and outward jerk of his left thumb, muttered some-thing into the other's ear, and produced in that gentleman's face that perky, slowly-expanding smile which is so expressive of warm-hearted Cockney mirth, and which provoked utter-ances on the part of our prefect which were almost viva voce. A callow youth, whose duty seemed to consist in applying a feather-flick to bars of soap in the intervals of studying the history of William Bunter, looked up and began to whistle the tune of a vulgar, pre-war, music-hall chorus, of which the opening words are, "Where did you get that......?" A pur-veyor of fresh fruit eyed the more perishable portion of his wares with an obvious desire to rid himself of surplus stock. Indeed, the gait of our hero, by the time he had reached the paternal mansion, can be compared only with that of Mr. Dempsey, when recently bidding farewell to a certain Mr. Tunney.
Needless to say, the straw hat was not seen again. It has not been wasted, however. It has been placed in a very dark cupboard. It is now serving a very useful purpose. It is sheltering the tender infancy of next year's tulips and crocuses.
" Fiant straw hats, but straw hats non erant," as Cicero would have said. Next year, although the authorities will not decree it, a lofty Adonis will arrive in a beret. Then will we all bury our heads in grief for the straw hat which was .......
A. E. Holdsworth (Vlth).