Club Foyer>Chillout Room>Depositions

A toxic combination

Here is a true story of me being enveloped in mackintosh sussurus and smell, by a lady in her trench who took the time to fasten a zip on my anorak for me.

I must have been about six when it happened. I was certainly in the infant class at school and we went on a trip to some country park or another. The school couldn't have picked a damper day to take us there, which might not have pleased everyone, but even in my formative years something in my inner self was glowing as I prepared to leave the coach.

Mrs Adams - our teacher - was already off the coach, organising children as they came down the steps. I've subsequently seen photos taken of our class way back then, with Mrs Adams included. She was a very pretty lady... The photos prove that my memory wasn't playing tricks about that. Even if I was only six, I could recognise beauty, even if I wasn't really sure what it stood for. Secretly I loved her, even if she was about twenty-five years older than me. Mrs Adams was complete in her beauty in so far as she was the owner of a khaki coloured double-breasted trenchcoat. It was a full-length version with epaulettes, cuff detail, a fat buckled belt and gun flaps! It's sussurus was already a big part of my life every playtime when she strutted round the playground buttoned up beautifully!!

On this occasion though, she was, as yet, unbuttoned. Her coat was flapping in the wind, the material making cracking noises as this was a gale more than a breeze. She really should have buttoned it up before leaving the bus, in order to tame it a bit! Instead of this, and to my excitement, as I neared the front of the bus I realised that Mrs Adams was giving any child with an undone coat a very definitive instruction...
"Lucy! Button your coat up for goodness sake..... David... Fasten that zip at ONCE!" My own coat was gapingly undone and doubtless demanding her criticism. She didn't disappoint. As I reached the bottom step of the coach demands on me were made.

"Andrew! Zip that up NOW!!"

I stood on the bottom step and made a brilliant bungled attempt at the zip. I was holding everyone up and after a few seconds her patience gave way. Mrs Adams made a frustrated snorting noise, which in my experience is limited to those in the teaching profession and of the female persuasion. She bent in front of me at the bottom of the steps and grabbed my coat angrily. I can't remember what she said exactly, but the words "COME HERE" and "FOR GOODNESS SAKE!" were definitely in there. Her mac was soaking and it STUNK! Her sussurus was of the "wet seal" variety rather than the "snake in the grass" version, due to the fact that she was so wet. Her own coat was still undone, flapping vigourously to add to the sussurus I mention, most of which was coming from her sleeves, driven this way and that by her quick moving hands and fingers that were trying to zip my own coat up. This combination of raincoat, sussurus, smell, her beauty and where her fingers had to go to do up my zip was a toxic combination. Best of all, my zip proved awkward for her. She was there for what seemed like forever (probably 30 seconds to a minute in reality) pulling and jerking at the zip with her sexy hands and muttering under her breath.

Eventually she got it done up, but that day has lived with me ever since. It feels like yesterday and it was a defining moment in my life and my love for a lady in a mac.

I took the opportunity to undo my zip later that day. When she saw what I'd done she said nothing at all, but stood in front of me and re-fastened my anorak angrily with all the same effects as she had created earlier. Once back at school, she would also do up my coat at playtimes if I left it undone and I have many happy memories of that too. As I said, Colin is not alone - and I'm relieved to discover that I'm not too!!

Howzat?

Andy

Dear Andy

Thank you!

I give your readers permission to think of the material of your teacher's intoxicating trench as rubberised cotton, and single texture, since no other reading is both plausible and bearable. The susurrus would not quite be as you particularly describe it if it were double-texture: and the thought of it not being rubberised at all is simply too unpleasant to countenance. So much so that if I have misunderstood you on this fundamentum please on no account trouble us with the actual truth.

Lorraine