This picture was taken when I was eight, in a studio in Mombasa. It was taken because I was about to set off for boarding school in England and my parents wanted an up-to-date photo to remember me by. At the time I didn't realise what was about to happen - that wasn't revealed to me until much closer to the moment of departure - so, in a way, this is a picture of lost innocence, for I remember my life in Mombasa before I went to Glengorse as a very happy time.
It features my favourite t-shirt, of a cowboy shooting at - presumably - either some Red Indians or some equally wicked white men that were pursuing him. At the time and for several years after, both my brother Richard and I were mad about cowboys and the Wild West, so it wasn't surprising that, one holiday while we were in the UK, we each bought a cap-firing six-gun just like the one on the t-shirt. Nor was it surprising that, when we set off from the UK to fly out to Mombasa for our summer holiday, the guns came too.
Unfortunately, no-one had warned us that, because of the Man-Mau uprising, the importation of guns, including replica guns, was strictly controlled so, when we passed through customs, our guns were found and confiscated. As you can imagine, we were devastated, and burst into uncontrollable tears, making such an embarrassing row that the customs man relented, particularly once he knew we were heading for the coast where the uprising hadn't happened, but on the condition that we took great care of the guns - which we singularly failed to do, because one of them disappeared.
So I sit and look at this picture and remember the very happy child it shows.
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