There comes a point in every surfer’s life, a threshold crossed from which there can be no return. I have just crossed that threshold. It is called the surf hat. It is the point at which one’s fear of sun damage overrides one’s dignity. But it is also a glorious liberation. Many of us, I suspect, embark on our surfing lives imagining we are going to somehow impress someone – parents, friends, siblings, that cute girl in the shorebreak. The brutal truth is for most of us no one is taking the slightest notice of our flailings in the ocean. When, in the decrepitude of surfing codger-dom, you finally learn to accept this, you are set free, unshackled from the silly dictates of surf fashion or the delusion that anyone is ever going to swoon over your shaky cutback. Rejoice and don your surf hat with pride.