My dad once stood guard at Buckingham Palace, his hat, a Bearskin reaching towards the heavens like a colossal fur missile or the spiral of an enormous poppy. It wasn’t until later, through aged photographs that he detailed how the hat was actually fur tightly pulled over a wicker structure. The substantial black Bearskin consisted of a head-weight of one and a half pounds, covering both winter and summer, with a red hackle feather, resembling a droplet of blood, comfortably nestled within its thick coat.
Reflecting the red edges of his Coldstream Guards uniform, his polished black shoes lay on the ground, leading to a line of brass buttons shining on his bright red tunic, akin to reaching the middle of the world vertically. These days, I caress the metallic rosette details on the photograph of my dad’s shoulder, his dazzling Garter Star, his golden chin strap, and his youthful nose until I finally reach his eyes which have long since disappeared behind the furry visor.
Clodagh Beresford Dunne’s work has earned her recognition such as the Irish Poem of the Year, the Irish Arts Council’s Emerging Writer Award, and the Clarissa Luard Emerging Writer Award in the UK. For the last badge of honor, she was put forward by Edna O’Brien DBE.