ABSTRACT
As a very small boy, I became notorious in the family as an inveterate wearer of hats. I had a number of different kinds, but my favourites were black felt cowboy hats that could be tied under the chin with cord, of which I had several over the years, worn until they were quite battered and unserviceable. I am wearing cowboy hats in a number of photographs from the family album, all taken between 1958 and 1961 in the house and garden in Doncaster, or on seaside holidays on the north-east coast near Scarborough (see Figures 9-12). The earliest were taken when I was about 2 years old. I am wearing dungarees, clutching a glove-puppet and wearing that first cowboy hat. How did I get it? Was I given it? Did I find it lying around somewhere? Did I see it in a shop? None of the family remembers, but it is clear that the wearing of hats in general, and cowboy hats in particular, rapidly became a sign of my individuality - a way of identifying myself, of saying: 'This is me, Graham; I am someone who wears hats'. I can recall with precision the feeling of satisfaction and composure that accompanied the purchase of a new hat. With this feeling, another is mingled: that of being affirmed and basking as the centre of attention within the family. My family enjoyed my wearing of hats, appreciated me as a hat-wearer. I remember my father at the seaside, chuckling and marvelling at it.
