I HAVE avoided wearing coats with hoods attached unless walking the countryside in bad weather.

In those circumstances the ensemble makes sense, although other walkers can sneak up on you unseen causing a shock to both you and them.

Where on earth did they come from?

And they are unsure what to make of me because of my habit of talking to myself, sometimes quite vociferously. They think I am arguing with an imaginary friend and move swiftly on.

But the other cold and rainy day I wandered Huddersfield with my wife, Maria, and both of us wore coats with hoods up.

We were like horses in blinkers, completely cut off from the world apart from the bit of pavement in front of us. More than once I turned to see where she was and had to do a complete pirouette before discovering she was also pirouetting some feet away to find out my location. This was street theatre at its most bizarre.

In bad weather, hoodies do a job but they are useless for crossing roads or holding conversations.

I was talking to an elderly Asian gentleman on my right for ages before I realised he wasn’t my wife. She was four shops back looking in a window. He just nodded and smiled when I pointed to her but made no response as to whether we should have chicken or beef for dinner.

“Women,” I said, and he agreed.

Hoods up, though, can be the ultimate step in privacy.

Don’t want to be bothered with the world? Put your hood up, plug in a pair of headphones and you can wander lonely as a cloud in the most congested town or city and no-one will bother you. Particularly if they mistake you for a mad monk in a cowl who is searching for the Da Vinci Code.

A hood can also get you into trouble, as gaffe prone Manchester City footballer Mario Balotelli found out at the Trafford Centre this week. This Manchester shopping metropolis has a policy of asking anyone who is wearing their hood up to put it down. This helps identify known criminals on CCTV.

Why anyone would want to wear their top up inside a retail park is beyond me, unless they yearn for unprovoked chats with total strangers. Mario said he had it up to stop fans recognising him, thus avoiding unprovoked chats with total strangers.

Would this excuse hold up for me in the Kingsgate Centre. Fans? Being recognised? Not really. Although someone did say recently I bore a passing resemblance to Kris Kristofferson.

Maybe I’ll try it next time I’m in town.

“Will you take your hood down, sir?”

“But I don’t want people to think I’m Kris Kristofferson.”

“He lives in America and is 5ft 11ins tall and you’re not.”

“Or Mario Balotelli.”

“I think you’re safe on that one, too, sir.”

“How about a mad monk from the da Vinci Code?”

“Just come with me, sir. The men in white coats won’t be long.”