The Mad Hatter

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Some blog posts begin with the best of intentions. But, sometimes we assume too much.

You may know the old adage:

When you assume, you make a blogger out of you and out of me.


For my last post, I thought I had the perfect formula for a successful post:

- An online quiz and googling contest - which, you may have heard, are very popular today.

- A picture of a cute kid wearing a funny hat.

- A guaranteed prize of a free hat, which is very rare today (there seldom being such a thing as a truly free hat).

How could I miss? The perfect formula for the perfect blog post. Well, like the producers of the halftime show at the SuperBowl sometimes discover, the perfect formula can sometimes end in a shambles, no matter how many people you have wearing funny costumes.


You may know the old adage:

When you assume, you make a black-eyed pea out of you and out of me.

As much as I like the crab hat featured in my last post, and as much as I would still like to have one, it turns out there is a very good reason why I couldn't find one on The Google, and why anyone who tried probably couldn't find it either. It appears the hats have not been marketed commercially for some time. I figured, since the wearer of the hat in the photo was of fairly recent vintage, that the hat was too.

You may know the old adage:

When you assume, you make a little pooper out of you and out of me.

I also figured that since the wearer of the hat was Tillerman's grandkid, that Tillerman would know of the hat's origins and so, for fairness to other contestants, he should be declared ineligible to compete.

Bad call.

As it turns out, Tillerman is one of the few people on the planet who actually does know where the hat comes from, which significantly limited the field of potential contestants. I did go back to The Google and, try as I might, found no reference to that crab hat I hold so dear. It is on the internets, but you really need to know where to start looking to have any chance of finding it.


You may know the old adage:

When you assume, you make a crustacean out of you and out of me.

The hat does have an interesting story though, which, thanks to Tillerman, I have been able to unravel. The guy who originally designed and made it is something of an artist who has created a whole series of cleverly designed hats, as well as other artwork, too. You can view his art at his web site here, and here are a few photos of his hats, stolen from his web site, for which I will probably be sued for copyright infringement.

You may know the old adage:

When you assume, you make a defendant out of you and out of me.

All photos copyright Tom Hyndman

But the hats are just the beginning of what is, for me, a far more interesting story.

The artist, Tom Hyndman, while minding his business and trying to survive as an artist in Syracuse, New York, happened into one of those quirks of happenstance a few years ago that many people dream about finding their whole lives.

He won what amounted to a lottery of sorts to become caretaker of a three hundred-year-old inn owned by the Scottish government on one of the most remote of the remote Shetland Islands, halfway between the mainland of Scotland and never-never land. He's technically in the UK, but closer to Oslo, Norway than London, on an island so small that it's accessible only by boat. Oh, heck - accessible only by boat.

Here is the crummy old place he now lives in.

And here is the insufferable view out his front window that torments him, day in and day out.

But it gets worse.

Even that depressing view is blocked half the time by these funny looking birds (which are, for some reason, popular with surfers on Long Island). These birds are in the way, no matter where you look.

And, half the time, he can't get out of his driveway, because it is blocked by flocks of Shetland sweaters on the hoof.

Tom's island is occupied by 65 people, 1200 of the sweaters on the hoof, and about 50,000 of the funny birds. And by a whole lot of other kinds of critters, from which he draws inspiration for the designs of his hats and other artwork.

So, you may want to take a look at Tom's web site if you are someone who likes fish or funny birds, or if you live in the UK, or if you used to live in the UK, or even if you are just fascinated by those rare places on this planet that still look a lot like they did before those of us who walk upright started messing everything up.

Oh, a few more words about hats. Tom's web site says he sells his hats directly now, but I don't know which ones are available or how much they cost. I think you have to e-mail him if you want some.

And if you think that you might like to visit Tom, you can. The old inn, or auld inn I should say, is now a B&B, so I'm sure Tom would love to see you.

So, I apologize if I led you on a wild hat chase. But, the chase took me somewhere I never expected to get, which, in this case, turned out to be a good thing for me, and, I hope, for you, too. There won't be a free hat after all, but, then again, there seldom really is.

This did prove that the internets and Mr. Google can lead you to places and people you never knew existed, if you know how to fly them (the internets, not the people). And if you read the label on your grandkid's hat.

And I am still interested in getting one of the crab hats - which must be one of the best sailing hats you can wear. But another of Tom's hats caught my eye, so I may have to get one of those, too:

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