It was one of the hottest days of the year, a beautiful sunny day in the West Sussex countryside. This particular wedding stood out because it had a most theatrical theme where everybody was wearing a different hat! We had hats with propellers on, Indian Mohawk’s, Mexican Sombreros, Stetsons, Top Hats and Trilby’s, Balloon hats, Australian Cork hats and one imaginative guest had made his own elaborate two foot tall Gandalf hat. There were wigs of all descriptions and sizes – literally any type of hat, wig or headpiece you could think of. As fabulous as this was, having the whole wedding party walking towards you in a multitude variety of hats and hairpieces seemed a little too much for Charlie and I could feel him starting to shift nervously about. Mother was quick to observe this also, and attempted to convince him all was well with the world by emptying a packet of polo’s in her hand. However, the final straw was the 3 foot long Indian Mohawk headdress – resplendent in every colour of plume feather – each one rustling and fluttering as feathers do in the wind – and this he was simply not going to cope with. I swiftly glanced at the photographer with a frantic glare to say “under no circumstances allow that hat to come past this horse” and on seeing this she dropped her camera and quickly barked orders at this now startled Mohawk and diverted him and the swarm of guests towards a different route to the reception …phew … all was well. (I later found out she was a horse owner herself and could sympathise with the situation!). After the wedding, clearly the obvious thing to do was to buy a Mohawk headdress of my own and I now wear it regularly at feed time and when pottering about the yard. Needless to say Tommie, Charlie and most of our neighbours look at me with great concern for my sanity but at least we will manage any Mohawk head piece thrown at us in the future.