JC
I though you might be interested in my early experiences which gave me my love-hate relationship with rainwear.
It started during the last World War when we were bombed out of our house in a major city and moved to live in a small seaside town away from air raids. I was attending the historic grammar school in the city and was awarded a scholarship to continue to attend. This meant commuting in by bus every day, an hour's journey in all weathers.
I lived with my single parent mother and her mother and we had little money to spare. Mum worked in the city but normally took the bus before me at 7.30 am; mine was at 8.15 am. She was very protective of me, especially as I had had rheumatic fever some years before all this happened and so was always being told to wrap up and not to get wet.
My school was a very prestigious and traditional day school, boys only. Everyone wore neat blue gaberdine raincoats to school almost every day.
Well, all this started one day when I was 13 years old. Foolishly, I left my regulation raincoat at school, having completely forgotten that I had worn it in the morning. I should explain that I was a rather naive, shy and introverted boy, and somewhat detached from the realities of life!
That evening, my mother was furious when she discovered what had happened. " I just hope it's there tomorrow. There's no way I can afford to buy you a new raincoat at the moment. And if it's raining tomorrow, you' ll just have to wear my old blue coat."
Now her old blue raincoat was a light blue rubberised cotton mac which was by now very old. It was so stiff that it would almost stand up by itself and smelt strongly of rubber.
I can't say that I was particularly perturbed by this news. I was sure my raincoat would still be at school and I didn't think that the threat of the blue mac would actually materialise. How wrong can you be?
I was woken by Mum early the next morning. "It's pouring with rain and you're going to have to wear my old mac. So get up and get washed and dressed. You're coming on the early bus with me."
All during breakfast I kept a hopeful eye on the weather, but it was simply bucketing down. At last the time came to get ready.
"Now, here's my mac; put it on."
" Oh, Mum, it's not raining very hard; I shall be alright."
"Don't be so stupid. It's pouring down and you're not going to get your new uniform soaking wet after all the money I've spent on it, which I can't really afford. I just hope you find your proper mac."
So I was inserted into the ghastly old blue mac. It was stiff, crackled when you moved and smelt of rubber. "Do it up now. No, silly, it buttons up the other way. And the collar, button it right up; we don't want you getting wet."
I felt a proper idiot. Just then Granny appeared on the scene. Said Mum: " The silly boy left his raincoat at school, so he's got to wear this old one of mine and he's making such a fuss." Then to me, "Now, do up the belt."
So I did up the belt and stood there like a dummy wondering how on earth I was going to cope with all the teasing at school.
I tried a protest, "Mum, I can't go to school wearing this mac. I shall be a laughing stock." She replied, "Well, you shouldn't be so stupid as to leave your school coat behind. Besides, no-one is going to take any notice of you."
Granny said, dear old thing that she was: " That's right, no-one will notice, dear. It's nearly the same colour as your school mac."
This was a palpable piece of wishful thinking. The mac was a very light blue and obviously made of rubberised cotton.
Now the worst was over, I thought. But just then Granny entered the ring again. "He' s not going to go out in this rain in his sandals, is he?' she said. Unfortunately, my only pair of stout school shoes was at the shoe repairers and I had put on my sandals as the only possible footwear.
"Oh Lord", said Mum, "what can we do ? He will get his feet soaked." I waited not knowing what my fate would be.
"What happened to his wellington boots?" asked Granny. My heart sank.
" Oh, we left them behind when we moved out" said Mum. I breathed again. "But I wonder if he could fit into my old wellingtons?" she went on, "Go and fetch them and we'll see. They're in the hall cupboard at the back, I think."
Granny returned with a horrible shiny pair of brown wellington boots.
In those days, only young children wore wellingtons and boys only ever wore black ones. Brown boots were only for girls and even then rather unusual.
"Put them up against his foot", said Mum, "and we'll see if they might fit." Granny did so and unhappily it looked as if my feet might just squeeze into those horrible boots. "You know, I think they will fit. Take off your sandals and try one on."
I had just moved into long trousers, so I protested; " I can't put them on over my trousers."
" Oh, don't be so silly, Mum replied, "Sit down and roll up the ends as if you were putting bicycle clips on."
I did so, the blue mac crackling and rustling, and indeed the dreadful wellington did go on. Mum felt my toes. "Is that lucky?" she said, There's even an inch to spare. Now put the other one on".
So there I was wearing my mother's old raincoat and brown shiny wellington boots.
It was dreadful.
I couldn't imagine what would happen at school, let alone the bus journey there with gaping schoolgirls ...
This history does continue and for me it became even worse. You might think that this is fiction, but only those who have had a possessive mother and who have lived during the 1940's will know that it is only too horribly true.
JC
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