Having the normal fat neck of a boy who had spent far too much time sticking his head into rugby scrums and rucks, I could never get the knot right. Any self-respecting lad in the 1970s used the "Full Windsor", thought to be named after that little prat of a king who resigned in the 1930s over some American harlot.
This knot used up about half the tie, which was all right for the slimmer necked chaps, but us of a more muscular breed always ended up with the end of the tie sitting on the breast bone and the short end sticking out the side as it was not long enough to fit into the little loop, so designed. It was very frustrating when getting ready for work in the morning and late for the bus.
It appears that the tie is all the fault of the French and some Croatian mercenary chappies who turned up in France in the 17th century wearing cute little neckerchiefs. The French, of course, being French, decided that these were quite fetching and began the trend of wearing a hankie around the neck. This then transformed into the modern tie and was picked up by rich young Englishmen doing their Grand Tour in the early 19th century, thus inflicting on the sons and daughters of the Empire the most uncomfortable clothing experience ever.
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I persevered with the tie for many years, relieved a little by relaxation of dress codes for summer in certain roles but by the late 90s, I had had enough. I looked at my good mate and work colleague Mark who I had never seen in a tie. I thought, well if he can get away with it so can I.
I asked Mark why he never wore a tie and the poor chap described the traumatic experience as a rosy-cheeked young lad of attending his first day of third form wearing his brand new tie, only to have it cut in half by some hairy mitted Neanderthal sixth former. From that day on he never wore another tie. Now my mate is a bit of a rebel, something I have always admired about him. I decided to put my big boy's pants on and stop wearing the tie. I expected all sorts of disciplinary issues but nothing happened.
Mark's experience reminded me of the day I started as a freshly scrubbed little 10-year-old at intermediate in Lower Hutt wearing my brand new maroon cap with the dinky wee silver badge on it. I also had a maroon tie on. A brute of a second former grabbed my cap off my curly wee head and pulled the knob off, throwing it away. I was devastated, had a wee cry but then thought I need to do something about this as no knob meant the same as not wearing a cap, detention. Telling my mother would be a bit wet so I "found" another cap in the cloakroom and removed its knob, making my cap whole again. All good. I must say a lot of knobs moved around during that first week of school in 1963.
Getting back to my brave decision to no longer wear a tie at work, I went one step further and sent a message to our then CEO, a good bloke with a sense of humour. I told him that as I no longer eat meat pies I saw no need for me to continue to wear a tie, this being the only reason why a chap would bother, keeping the odd bit of mince or carrot off one's shirt. He congratulated me on my decision and wished me well.
