Bobby and I love ‘ats. They keep yer bonce warm. They keep it dry… hopefully. Some keep the sun out of yer eyes. Some are totally practical. Some not. Some reflect your mood. Others your ego. Just one or two are very old friends. Maybe only one is. “‘at Par Excellence”. So here we offer you a kaleidoscope of tit-for-tats, titfers, ‘ats. And save “‘at Par Excellence” to the very end.
Wots in an ‘at
Slightly posher. Epsom M&S. Bought on a whim after Cardiac Rehab. Not bad.
Slightly posher with Layla.
M&S sale, per Diddley. Poor fit. Don’t really like it.
First Tilley Summer ‘at. Loved it. Innsbruck. Lost on a train to Dorking.
To Schliersee Bavaria. Lovely day on the BOB train.
To Lammersdorf. Millstatter am see, Carinthia , Austria. Loved it there.
To glorious Venice. We couldn’t believe we were there. By train.
Red Arrows. Oh how we missed them in 2020.
Engine driver. Bluebell Railway. We miss you.
Sutton United. Up the U’s.
Spitalfields Market . Last day in London March 2020. We miss London.
‘At Par Excellence
There was only one ‘at that was ever going to win this prestigious award. The ‘at stuck on his bonce at this very moment. The one he wears to bed, forgetting he has it on. The one he has left behind three times on trains, but has been handed it back before he got off. It’s looking a bit Fred Dibnah, without the engine oil and soot. A bit threadbare. A bit in need of TLC. It even holds a dark secret… But the ‘At Par Excellence is this one…
Sutton United. David, Andrew and Bobby… and ‘At Par Excellence.
“’At Par Excellence” Yorkshire Tweed. Woven in England. Exclusively for Marks and Spencer. Rule Britannia, Jerusalem, Yorkshire Tea. Kate Rusby. Whitby. By eck… what an ‘at.
But here is the dark secret, almost illegible now. I’ll leave you to find it… Bleeding cheek. It’s still his “’At Par Excellence”.