I have a confession to make.

I have a confession to make. While I am everyone’s idea of an environmentalist, I do yoga and I hate the idea of the cruelty of the fur trade, I own a couple of furs.

Yes, it’s true. I remember a time when, if you walked down Oxford Street in a fur coat someone would pour a pot of red paint over you. Yes, and I agree with that sentiment.

The trouble is my grandmother left me a beautiful hat which is unmistakably genuine fur. It was made very nearly a hundred years ago at a time when furs were really not so unusual. So, it’s not as if I went out and bought a hat made out of fox and supported any kind of business. I just happened to inherit a hat.

Now the reason I tell you this is that, following a week with an election that has left the rest of the world reeling, Sylvester and I decided to go out to dinner with Rainbow and her partner, Epiphany. Rainbow had said there’s a new Thai restaurant and she wanted to try it out.

Since it’s turned a little chilly here in Vancouver I decided to wrap up well and took several of the hats in my wardrobe and put them on my bed and tried them on one by one. Sylvester then appeared as I was doing so and started asking all about the new restaurant.