Easter bonnets. Say no more. However that may result in the shortest blog in history, so I’ll spill.
Here goes. This the day I dread most on the craft activity calendar. It’s the one that separates the men from the boys, the “leave them to it” s from the serious crafty contenders. Despite usually being part of the former, I go all out on this one to compensate for the humiliation I suffered as a child. (come on now, “one, two, three, aaahhhhh!”)
It was a day I would much rather forget but unfortunately will struggle to do so as long as Easter endures.
Picture a world where The Range does not exist, not even in the imagination. A world where supermarkets stock little else but food. Consumerism hasn’t quite taken off and vanity is yet to be discovered by anyone under the age of 16. This was the 70s.
Set against this scene is my 7 year-old self with a brief to construct an Easter bonnet for our Brownie’s parade. With what? I asked myself. You got nothing on a plate in those days.
As someone who had absolutely no idea what an Easter bonnet was, or how to make one, or indeed, who wears one, I was already on the back foot. I was sent to Grandma’s to sort it out and thankfully she was more than happy to assist.
Plonking an old blue turban-style hat into my lap we began. Even with my scant knowledge of Easter bonnets something told me this was wrong but I held faith in the fact that Grandma knew best. After an hour or so it was done. There were grapes, apples, even a banana if I recall, and a plastic full-size egg. It did look rather strange, but for all I knew, it was supposed to.
With Grandmas approval I skipped off to Brownies, excited at the prospect of winning a prize for my creation. It turns out I did get a prize – a consolation one, after being laughed at hysterically by my peers and leaders alike. I won’t lie, I was wounded and very embarrassed but having scanned around at my competitors efforts it appears I was far off the mark. Not a boater, a chick or strand of straw on my head, only a vague nod to Carmen Miranda (whom I knew nothing about but later discovered was a particular favourite of my crazy Grandma’s…)
These days I’ve got it covered.
