The wee boy on the left hand side of the photo, with the baggy breeks, fierce expression and kirby grip in his hair, is me, young Bob Redwater. My Ma told me, “If you don’t want to get your haircut, then you’ll need to wear one of your sister’s hair grips to keep your hair out of your eyes or you’ll go blind”. “Okay” I said to my Ma, “I don’t care”.  I was a thrawn child, stubborn as a mule.