When I was a wee boy my grandparents' home was broken into. Actually it was broken into several times but this is the one I remember. I was there when a detective showed up to investigate. He wore a sheepskin jacket. I hadn't seen many of them. But even more impressive was how he was treated. The adults all showed great respect to the detective. This, I decided, was what I wanted to be when I grew up - a man who got respect. Catching bad guys might be interesting too. Sadly, it was not to be. When I left school there was still a minimum height for joining the constabulary and I came up short. Of course, all the adults in that room that day probably wondered how a detective constable could afford a sheepskin coat. I suspect the respect that impressed me was purely superficial. But as a wee boy I was fooled.