Readers, I bought a hat last week.
But hang on a minute. Let me put this shopping slip-up into context before we become all judgemental and purist. The weather’s been gradually getting colder, as my house has gradually been turned upside down, ripped apart, and built up again with a new extension and kitchen. In the chaos, I misplaced my favourite hat. It’s a purple, peaked flat cap. It’s a bit old and dog eared now, but I love it. I hunted high and low for it. Behind the back of the washing machine, in the hat and scarf box, in my spare handbags. All to no avail. My ears were getting colder every time I left the house. I missed my hat. Secretly, I convinced myself it would be ok to buy a replacement. I looked in Accessorise for a direct replacement. Full of trilbies. I came home and looked again. Nowhere to be found. So I popped into Debenham’s one lunchtime and tried on a few hats of a similar style. Bought a lovely cream mohair John Rocha one. 20% off in the Blue Cross Sale.
That’s allowed, right? I wasn’t like it was an impulsive purchase. I need to keep my head warm, after all.
Maybe I shouldn’t mention then how I found my old purple hat two days after I bought the new one. It was secreted in my briefcase that I haven’t used since early spring. Oops.
I fear I may have broken Operation Threadbare rules here. As if questioning my decision, the Operation Threadbare fairies led me directly into the path of Splodz (remember one of my original Operation Threadbare challengers?) as I walked back to work that fateful lunchtime, clutching my Debenham’s bag. Busted. I did of course immediately confess. She shrugged, and generously said she thought it was worth a blog post.
Readers, then, it’s over to you.