Lots of retired blokes wear hats. I was not designed to do so.
That was proven one day when we were in Cardiff to watch Wales play New Zealand at the Millennium Stadium. It was pouring with rain, and Jacqui told me off for not having an umbrella. Who takes an umbrella into a football crowd?
I said I would buy a hat in M&S. I tried on a dozen different hats, Jacqui passing them to me, examining each in turn on my head, and rejecting each as unsuitable.
Flat caps, peaked caps, tweed, corduroy, waterproof canvas. The verdict was always the same: “It doesn’t suit you.”
Eventually we settled on a fur-lined square hat, with side-pieces that could be lowered as ear muffs.
I looked like the female lead in Fargo.