Hat's Hat

When we got off the train Hat was back to his old self. He was talking and laughing and looking around and his bunnies were hippety hopping around us and the doves flying all over. The other travellers kept their distance. Only little Eenie Bunnie was pulling some luggage behind him, which kept him earthbound.

Underground at Hampsterhead station you have to take the lift. It is too far down for escalators. And I'm afraid the bunnies always get a little sick on the way up. They were talking about this problem quite loudly as we waited and we ended up taking the lift all by ourselves. They started making moaning noises as soon as we shot up the shaft and the white little Bunnies went somewhat green. Professor Hat never stopped talking, even when two of the doves rolled over on the floor and lay down.

"The point is," he was saying, "If we launch a new idea on the world, in an incomplete state - like this one about connecting cars on the highways with invisible Spider thread - everyone will latch onto it. Your competitors will get so involved with trying to copy it that they won't notice all the other things you are up to. You can hide all your secrets behind it"

When the lift came to a stop, with a lurch, the Professor took off his hat.

"Hop in guys," he said and the Doves and Bunnies scrambled in. Then, just as the door opened, the Professor stuck the big top hat on his head and strode out into the station. We flashed our travelcards at the machine and the turnstiles opened but as Hat went through an alarm went off. A Bulldog in uniform stood in front of us.

"You again!" he said as he recognised Hat.

"Sorry again, Officer," said Hat.

"You'd better take it off," the Transit Policeman said, and he held out his hand. The Professor took off the top hat and let the policeman examine it.

Meanwhile I walked to the entrance and looked out on Hampsterhead High Street. As I got accustomed to all the rush hour traffic streaming by I had the strangest experience. I could suddenly hear each car and bus individually, the tires, the engines, the breaks. Each car stood out from the whole as a completely separate event. This must have gone on for about a minute before it faded on me. Then my hearing retreated to the normal whoosh of traffic. I wondered if this was a sign of something going wrong with me.

Hat came out with his hat on.

"Stupid cop," he said, "He just doesn't get it." "I just hope," I replied, "that nobody threw up in your hat."