As work on the boat continues and our launch in January looks like it will happen, my mind wanders to other things, like my Viking helmet. Mine is, of course, not brass, bronze, or copper like the Viking helmets of old, but LDPE or HDPE with ‘authentic’ color reproduction. It is a damn fine hat. Depending on your mood and the season, you can adjust the horns up or down, either individually or together. The tips of the horns are rounded so as not to poke the eyes out of anyone unintentionally. Perhaps my plastic Viking helmet is a Viking safety hat.
My hat lives with other items of entertainment in the V-garage drop-down, affectionately known as the ‘tickle trunk’. But if you were a kid in Canada between 1967 to 1996, it was a Tickle Trunk – a magical portal to a world powered primarily by imagination. Coined by Mr Dressup – our uniquely Canadian and delightfully low-budget answer to Mr. Rogers. Our tickle trunk resembles his in function only. Ours contains things like St. Patrick’s Day garb, various wigs, and hair extensions… you get the idea.
Curtis and Fifi were just puppets. I think Curtis was some sort of ventriloquist; nobody’s lips moved when he spoke. Where was I?
Oh, ya, Vikings. So as I am want to do, I ventured into my Googlizer and discovered of course that they think Vikings did not wear helmets with horns. Turns out the horned helmet of legend was just that. Some Danish artists painted warriors with horned helmets, and Viking historians bought into the bull crap. The rest is history.
It does make sense, though. I always wondered how they could wear such horned protuberances around a boat. You would always be knocking things down, poking out light bulbs, and catching low-flying drones in the horns. The only good use I can think of is the horns would be a place to dry your flimsies when hand washing on the road…
I eagerly look forward to wearing mine regardless of legends, not of my making.
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