The algorithms of my social media have had a bit of a hiccough/hiccup this week.

As a 60+ woman with a head of exuberant curls, marketing flat caps at me is going to land exactly no on-line sales. But relentlessly, this week, the cookies and the algorithms would really like me to buy a flat cap.

Writing this blog may well make the situation worse.

Flat caps do live large in my memory bank because my paternal Grandad was almost never seen outside without one. Indoors the cap, his gas filled cigarette lighter, Rizla cigarette papers and Old Holborn tobacco tin were never far from his side.

When I see a flat cap there is a vestigia of the fragrance of tobacco and lighter gas that flashes through my brain. When I went to London at 18 he had already been dead for 6 years . This building was on my bus route to Barts Hospital, when I first saw it the same little flash of fragrance zipped through my head, and I wished I could tell him that the building really existed.

Flat caps are a bit of a granddad thing. My maternal Great Grandfather makes an appearance on my family tree with a fine flat cap and moustache.

So I must admit to having a fondness for flat caps but not a need to buy one.

Once again my photo archive has come up with  evidence that I have quite an archive of flat cap images. They do frame a face and set at tone which is significantly different to that of the rather over-popular baseball cap/hat.

Clearly I do love a flat cap, but am never going to buy one.

Below another flat cap blog.

#399 theoldmortuary ponders