William Hague the Spoiler

In many respects I was a typical kid of the 1960's.

I wore shorts a lot, had a selection of 'T' shirts with pictures of modes of transport and inane slogans, sensible button up cardigans, a duffle coat and a selection of footwear from smart buckle up shoes to my absolute favourites- baseball boots or bovver boots as they were better known.

The clothes for which my parents worked hard to provide me with were soon spoiled from active outdoor play, crawling about in mud and foliage and rather messy eating habits at the table or on the move.

I remember this period in my life very well but with one lurking and disturbing aspect.

Most of the photographs of me in the family archive show a rosy cheeked face, unfashionable hairstyle all characteristically me but just below my chin the pictures always show me wearing a dickie bow tie.

One of the very earliest pictorial records is from about age 3 or 4 with me in a fetching short and bib all in one, starched white shirt and yes, a small dark blue bow tie on elastic. I do not know the origins of this rather formal attire for one of pre-school age but I suspect that it was just the in-thing of the time in which parents dressed their offspring to please grandparents and other relatives on occasional visits.

The style did persist and I have also seen the page in the album of when we attended the wedding of my Father's cousin in the early 1970's.. Sure enough I have, in addition to the shorts, white socks and nylon shirt that ever present dickie.

When not being worn that essential piece of a young lads wardrobe would be carefully placed in the top drawer of the small cabinet beside my bed amongst best socks and my prized possessions of used munitions, fossils, oddments of nuts, bolts and screws, collectable cigarette cards, seashells (unwashed and therefore a bit pungent) and dead insects laid out as though in state in a series of cotton wool lined matchboxes. It would emerge for church concerts when part of the uniform of the choir, band concerts as part of the uniform of the town brass band and embarassingly for such events as school disco's.

It did not seem strange at the time but looking back I was definitely the only one so dressed. I was not bullied remorselessly or even ridiculed which is, again, unusual given the propensity and sheer delight amongst children to target, pick on and make life unbearable for anyone who dares to be different in a peer group situation. This laissez faire attitude may have been because I was thought of as being a bit odd anyway although I like think that I just carried off the art of dickie bow tie wearing to a exceptional level. Not!.

I did eventually grow out of the elasticated fastening versions and progressed to the authentic tie-up type in my teenage and later years. This had a few outings again at brass band competitions and as I now recall with excruciating embarassment on a date at age 11 when staying at Butlins Skegness with the family of a school friend. The dickie bow was at that time working in a rather nice combo with a purple flecked sports jacket in which I had been confirmed by the Bishop of Lincoln. In the queue of excitable kids along the wall of the Butlins theatre waiting to be let in to see Charlie Caroli the Clown in his summer season by the sea I did attract a few amazed and shocked looks. It may have been the bow tie or the fact that my date was an older woman of at least thirteen. T

The art of bow tie wearing in public was of course irrevocably harmed by its adoption by the opinionated then young conservative William Hague for which he still has a lot to answer. This negativity was of course off set to some degree by the association of the bow tie with James Bond and other smooth operators in the movies and on television. There is a sense of occasion and mystery from sporting that piece of attire- just ask anyone in formal wear even though they might be reluctant to admit to it.

My most recent wearing of a dickie bow?

Well, I did enter into the Festive Spirit and wore a bright red and spotted example, although with broken fastener, to that last half day of work before the Christmas Holidays. It was an impulse decision but soon to be regretted when I caught a glimpse of myself in the glazed door to my office building. There is something cutesy and oldie worlde about a small red cheeked boy in a dickie bow but to be frank, my rather podgy and chinny profile made me look like a bit of a twat.