Hi Lorraine

I've recently discovered your website - and what a discovery it is. I've been fascinated by macs for as long as I can remember. I thought I was unusual - but obviously not.

My story starts in 1978. At this point I was in the 4th year at school and somewhat bullied. If you're male and find yourself under these circumstances you don't get girlfriends easily. It's just too much of a risk for the "street cred" of any girl to be seen with a boy who gets bullied. At that time of my life I'd been admiring lots of the girls at school - particularly the ones who were wearing what was fashionable in terms of macs at the time. The school was quite liberated about outerwear so I don't have a story about a regulation mac in the way that other correspondents do. My story surrounds what was very definitely a fashion item at that particular time.

The late 70's produced a whole load of coloured raincoats. Chocolate brown and royal blue seemed to be most common for a while - usually in a single breasted style. Not only that, but with buttons that didn't go from top to bottom. There was usually a large concentration - typically 4 or even 5 buttons - over a relatively short distance. From below the breast level to above the waist. The buttoned area (in the middle of the body) always clung tightly to the figure, which was evolving, or in many cases, had evolved, into the fully grown female figure on these teenage girls.

Sarah had come to our school at the very start of the 4th year. Her parents moved from London. She was an attractive girl. That was noticeable from day one. At Christmas in 1978 though, someone gave her a present which transformed her from a pretty young girl into a positively beautiful lady. It was one of the brown versions of the macs detailed above. She looked brilliant in it. A tall girl, with a beautiful figure and lovely blonde hair. She had a knack of looking older than her age. She could have been mistaken for 20 quite easily in fact.

I didn't have the most enjoyable home life. My parents tried to keep me young for as long as possible. At a time when other boys my age were out and about enjoying themselves I would normally be stuck at home. I started longing to "go out with" Sarah. To be able to take her to my parents house, dressed in her mac, so that they could see that I'd "grown up."

It wasn't possible though. Surely a girl like Sarah would not be interested in me. Even though she had a grown up attitude to match her dress sense I would not have been a catch due to my social standing amongst the other boys in the class. Unlike any of the others she never poked any fun at me and would always speak. Some of my classmates never bothered at all. I settled down to admire her from a distance - particularly when she came into the classroom dripping wet on rainy mornings. I tried not to make it obvious that I was staring at her unbuttoning the coat with her beautiful little hands. I would hanker for it to be raining at home-time too, so that she would certainly go through the re-buttoning exercise within my gaze as well. This admiration from a distance went on. All through the rest of the 4th year. All through the 5th year. This last year was particularly stormy in terms of bullying. I managed to get through it and complete my O levels somehow though.

What now ? I wanted to do A levels, but many of the bullies were quite bright. They would stay on too - surely. I'd never actively noticed any bullying going on in the school Sixth Form involving other pupils. Would mine stop ? I would be entering into an association with 16, 17 and 18 year olds. These were all grown ups. Surely they would stop now. All these thoughts went through my head. I knew if I actually gave up education and got a job that I would definitely be entering adult life. I could banish the bullying forever. The money would come in handy too, to help me escape my parents grasp, which was still fairly tight at this stage. During the summer holidays I did a casual job. It so happens that many of the kids from the next nearest (deadly rivals) school worked in the same place. Many were between O levels and the 6th Form -like me. None of them were awful. Some of them are my best friends to this day - nearly a quarter of a century later. I tried to persuade my parents to let me go into the 6th form there instead - unsuccessfully. In the end, and under some parental pressure, I returned into the lion's den that was my own school at the start of September. Ah well. At least I wouldn't have to wear uniform anymore.

I stepped off the school bus on that September morning. I was full of doubt about what might await me. It was positively chucking it down with rain. I walked along the side of the bus towards the 6th form common room - which was at the furthest point from the place where the bus dropped you off -about a quarter of a mile I should think. I prepared myself mentally for a soaking. The bus from another outlying village had pulled in behind. Off the bus, and almost into my arms, stepped Sarah.

She grinned at me through her carefully applied make-up - which was allowed in the 6th form. "You'll get soaked. Lets see if this umbrella can keep us both dry. Will you hold it up for a minute while I button my coat up ?'

You bet I would !! The greedy side of me would rather have been handling the mac than the umbrella though. Why couldn't she have held the umbrella while I buttoned her up ? No. You're right. That would just have been too good to be true.

I stood literally inches from her while she fastened the brown coat. Perhaps the 6th form would be OK after all! As we walked along under the umbrella I started questioning her about other pupils who were "staying on." Since I had spent the summer with people from another school and since I was trying to blot out my earlier experiences in my own school I had not shown any interest in anybody's exam results apart from my own when they were published. I didn't even go into school to collect them. I simply waited for the results in the post. I then asked about other people's exam results - including hers. Like me Sarah had passed her O levels and was going on to 3 A levels. The bullies, it seemed from her story, would not be returning. One by one I managed to eliminate them from the 6th form equation.

"Is Tim coming back ?"

"No. He's gone to the College of Further Education to resit most of his O levels."

"How about Gary ?"

"Gotta job," she replied.

It actually took me until about lunchtime on day 1 of the 6th form to discover, that for one reason or another, none of my tormentors had made it back through the school gates for this new era. All the people that had been left behind in the school were great though.

One was greater than all the others... Sarah in her brown Mac.

We were introduced to the admin side of the 6th form during the first lesson. Timetables and what you're not allowed to do in "free periods". Oh sorry. We weren't allowed to call them that. I should have written "private study." Sarah sat herself next to me for this - her brown mac still dripping on her chair behind her. Alas the umbrella had not been big enough to keep both of us completely dry. Break time came. The 6th form common room possessed a kettle. No tea bags or coffee! Just a kettle !! Sarah grabbed her mac and quickly went through the re- buttoning exercise about 6 inches in front of me.

"C'mon. Lets go and get some tea. I can't live without tea."

What a grown up thing to say! My Mum loved tea. She despised coffee drinkers. When my older brother brought home his girlfriends they were branded "good people" if they asked for or enjoyed a cup of tea... Perhaps I could grow up in my parents eyes after all. If I could just take her home...

After break (and a cup of tea using tea bags from the shop next to the school) we each went off to our different lessons - as we had chosen totally different A levels. The afternoon was entirely free periods. Err. I mean Private Study. Little studying took place. We just sat there and talked to each other. Just Sarah and I. My brother was living in the same part of London as the one she had come from - and still hankered after. I had spent some time there in the summer holidays before I landed my summer job back at home. It had been a welcome escape from my parents and I had grown quite familiar with the district. We had some common ground.

What unfolded between then and Christmas was a dream for me. I was in her presence for quite a percentage of every school day. Due to my earlier traumas though I just couldn't quite ask her out. What if she said no ? What if she said yes ? What would I do ? Where could we go outside school ? We were both 16 so neither of us could drive - obviously - let alone own a car. We lived 7 miles apart in villages with precious little public transport. My parents would not have taken me to meet her -and how much kudos would that have had anyway ?

Despite all of this, I still wish, 24 years later that I'd had the ability to pursue her properly. Instead of this we became "good friends." I should have seen the signs of more being available though. She would snuggle up beside me on the benches in the common room and read her books during "private study." The heating in there was desperate. On cold days she would wear her mac while she read, snuggled against me. I never got "physical" back though. I didn't know HOW! ! I anguished over how to progress my situation.

One day in November I ran my own little test of her passion. I didn't go to registration first thing. She would have been there. I simply attended my lessons - which she wasn't in and went elsewhere during morning break and lunchtime. My mate Simon came to me in our lesson after lunch and told me Sarah had asked him if I was off sick that day. He told her that I'd been in lessons with him all morning. I went into the common room in the afternoon break. She smiled warmly at me, walked straight into my personal space and gazed up at me.

"I've been looking for you all day !"

If I needed any proof, then that should have been IT, shouldn't it ? Not me though. The confidence just wasn't there to make the move. These were just SUCH happy days though, such a departure from the previous term and EVERYTHING that had gone before. Christmas came nearer. I have never (before or since) enjoyed the build up to the festive season so much.

On the last day of term, we were to finish early, just after lunch. It was very cold and snowing just a little. Fortunately Sarah's wardrobe appeared to boast just the one coat. She came in buttoned up in her mac, wrapped in a scarf and gloves too. She looked stunning as usual. I had cycled to school which was 5 miles. Why ? Because Sarah had got a weekend job in a shop in the town where the school was. Due to the Christmas rush she had volunteered to work on the last afternoon of term after school. This meant she would walk into town - about 2 miles at the end of the day. I could push my bike along beside her and we could talk.

Things unfolded perfectly. It was so romantic - in the snow. Sarah was buttoned, scarfed and gloved as I pushed my bike along beside her. I stopped and turned to look at her, without saying a word. She stopped too...

"I'm going to miss you over Christmas" I suddenly blurted out.

"Me too... " She whispered. My arms went round her and suddenly I could feel her lovely soft form through her tightly buttoned Mac. I kissed her - passionately. At least it felt that way to me.

We gently disentangled ourselves and we started walking again - holding hands now !! We got to the door of the shop. We kissed again and I went off for Christmas, very happy indeed with my life.

On December 28th there was to be the School Christmas Party. This would be my big moment, I had decided. Sarah appeared, looking like a doll, dressed up to impress. She impressed all right... She impressed a kid called Martin from the 5th year of all places !!!! Before I knew it they were snogging their way across the dance floor.

Suffice it to say that from December 28th onwards that school year was not so rosy. Martin - from the year below - made a much better fist of romance than I had done !! I resented him, dreaming of dishing out some bullying of my own when nobody was looking. Fortunately I was becoming more grown up too and didn't deliver on this promise to myself. Eventually Martin got binned by Sarah. No sooner had this happened than Neil became a fixture in her life. We remained "friends" - well most of the time anyway - but I did realise how she must have been physically attracted to me during that first term because, suddenly, from Martin onwards, all the little signs had gone. No more snuggling up. I suppose she was very patient, waiting for something to happen from the beginning of September until after Christmas. She was the prettiest girl in the lower 6th for goodness sake. It's just remarkable that all the other lads gave me a free reign to be with her for that long.

Sarah and I left school with our A levels and lost touch from that day on. I heard that she married Neil. She was 20 at the time and he was 3 or 4 years older.

Life went on. Several relationships and great experiences later I met my own wife. I was 26 at the time. I often thought about Sarah and wondered how she was getting on, but by then I'd totally lost touch with her and all who knew her. You would also have imagined that the lovely brown mac would have long since been binned.

More time went buy. Two years ago - aged 38 - I thought about logging onto Friends Reunited and putting my details on there. Sarah was still in my mind after all the years and I thought there would be a danger she would read my details and respond to me. I should stress at this point that I am very much in love with my wife ( who has a couple of stunning macs) and my two children. I could never cheat on them irrespective of what temptation may be put in front of me! ! I don't really like the idea of that website either, so I chose not to register . Surely in most cases there's little point in raking up the past ? I did scan it for her details though in case she had registered. What a hypocrite. She hadn't registered though... At that stage !

A few weeks later, on a Sunday afternoon, I was getting ready to go away for the week on business. I hate working at weekends, but I thought that I should check my e-mails before grudgingly leaving my family behind. I had just finished sighing with relief that no new mail had come when... PING. "New mail has arrived. Do you want to read it now?" It had come from someone called Sarah with a surname that I was unfamiliar with. It turned out to be her married name - the second time around. She was divorced from Neil and had re- married. The e-mail was very chatty. She had now registered for Friends Reunited, got into an e-mail conversation with some other people and enquired about me. One of them knew where I worked. She phoned our office and they (naughtily) gave her my e-mail address.

Sarah had taken THAT much bother to find ME ? After all these years ? WOW !! She revealed that she had 3 daughters under 5 from her new marriage. This has moved on to 4 daughters under 7 as I write this. Apparently the hormones had kicked in late. She was obviously happily married - just like me, but, even so, this was a very warm e-mail.

After a little e-mail trading I went round to see her one day at her house and met her children. She was no different. It would be true to say there was some "electricity" between us, not that we got up to anything that morning.

That's two years ago now. Every now and again she e-mails me. Every now and again I e-mail her. I've been a little scared of arranging another meeting in case passion overtakes me. I don't know, but I suspect that this is a mutual fear !!

Recently Sarah e-mailed me to tell me that our school was holding a reunion. She still lives within a few miles of it. I'm about 100 miles away now. This was no small reunion for our year. They planned (and pulled off) a major event with people coming in who left last year... And others who had left in the 1950's. I don't know how many people were there but it was an amazing event.

I went for one reason and one reason only. To see Sarah on neutral ground. She had told me when she would be arriving so I arrived at the same time. I parked my car across the road from the school, with some difficulty due to the sheer number of attendees. I crossed the road and stopped. The school was positively swarming with people.

Suddenly I realised that I had stopped on the very spot where I had stood 24 years earlier. The spot where Sarah's bus had pulled up and decanted her into my arms. I just stood there for a moment and let it all wash over me. Fittingly, the rain was coming down in torrents.

Then I heard the distinctive noise of a pair of ladies' heels behind me. They were running. The noise stopped right behind me and before I could turn round two arms grabbed me round the waist and hugged me from behind. The arms were surrounded in Brown mackintosh sleeve !! I turned round, and there she was... WEARING IT !!! I kissed her on the cheek and touched the mac on the shoulder.

"This has lasted rather well hasn't it ?" I quipped.

She looked me squarely in the eyes and whispered "You always loved this coat didn't you ? Your eyes used to light up more when I had this on. I've always kept it in my wardrobe ever since." Apparently she had hardly worn it at all in 20 years which explained how it had stayed in such good condition. Brave of her to wear it in 2003 too. I would imagine it would look horribly dated to most eyes. Not mine! Can you set about making these coats fashionable again ?

I thought she would have forgotten all about me for years and years. I thought I was the only one doing the thinking and the remembering. Apparently not judging by the way this mac had been kept - just for me it seemed. We wandered round the school together. Some of our old teachers were still there. Both of us had left our better halves and children at home. Both of us were wearing wedding rings. One teacher presumed we were married. Not a ridiculous suggestion at all.

When it was all over, she stood in the school foyer, and squeezed all the brown buttons into their little holes.

She's a size or two bigger now you see. She looked just as fantastic as before in the coat though.

She turned and waved as she got into her car - still wearing her raincoat.

"See you soon!"

What a conundrum!!

This is a story without an ending ... YET, ANYWAY.

Perhaps we will meet again. Perhaps we won't.

Both of us could get widowed and meet up aged 84... Fate and all that.

If it ever happens, I hope she'll wear the mac !

In the meantime, see if you can get some pictures of the kind of macs she wore and put them on the website. I can't find an example on there. I think the nearest in style maybe the one that is being worn by a delightful looking lady called Pauline. She's unloading an orange Mini with a small girl beside her, but you can only see her back.

I'd love to think you could publish my story above. This is very egotistical of me because it has probably bored you senseless - assuming you've got this far. I'm just so scared to e-mail it to you in case someone finds it on my computer, or you e mail me a reply which a colleague - or my wife reads! Hence the post, which means you'd either have to scan it in or reproduce the whole lot which means typing galore. Please see what you can do. In the meantime, keep up the good work with the website. I love it. Any feedback you can give me either on the letter above - or macs from the era where I had my romantic fling would be gratefully received on your website.

Kindest regards and Happy Christmas

Andy.