Achieving Closure

Dear Lorraine

I've been looking at the pages on your site for quite a while now & I've decided that the time has come for me to write to you with my own mackintosh & coat experiences. I hope that my letter is of interest, and that you will publish it on the site. I feel that my own experiences leave me with many unanswered questions. I'd love to think that some of your correspondents would be able to read this and perhaps bother to write to you letting you know their thoughts about my own findings. Ultimately I have another whole set of raincoat non-fiction to provide you with. I'll set the scene first though.

Like so many of your letter-writers, my experience begins in childhood. I'm 42 now so I'm going back a fair way but it would be true to say that my very earliest memory surrounds a mac. I don't know how old I was but I can remember my mother wearing hers & sitting me on the bottom stair while she put me into a green coat of sorts to go out. It's safe to say that I was less than 3 when this happened because I have other more vivid memories from when I was that age that I will expand upon in a moment. The mac she was wearing that day stayed with her until I was 6. It is a testament to traditional macs to say that, if the coat was still available to wear, I could throw it to you on a wet day now & you could wear it without it looking dated. Here we had a perfectly ordinary cream coloured raincoat with those buttons that look like they are made from hide. You know the sort. They featured lots of different shades of beige, cream & brown, with no regular pattern to their colours. Burberry trenchcoats usually have buttons like it. I'm pretty sure that the coat was single breasted & may have had concealed buttons when done up. It certainly had those little strappy things on the cuffs - but rather than having belt buckles on them they had one button for each sleeve to hold them there. Mum wore this coat most of the time when she was outside until I was 6. Really cold weather made her produce the tweed overcoat instead. To prove that stuff comes back into fashion, you could have worn that this last winter too. It was several different shades of blue, and single breasted with 3 big blue buttons to do up. The blue tweed disappeared during childhood. Over a period of time a Burgundy coloured trench & a grey one appeared (both leather but no less fun for it). Mum bought one and was given the other-both in 1971. There were a series of beige trenchcoats & (eventually) her spectacular single breasted tan coloured one. I have sent you pictures of the Burgundy, grey & tan coloured coats. They still exist now.

Even though my love extends to all coats, I get particularly excited by trenchcoat style macs. I just love them. I'll cross the road to get a good look at a lady in one. Ladies who would be extremely attractive simply aren't unless they've got a raincoat in the right style. Less attractive ladies often get my vote over those I might think prettier if they are buttoned and belted into a trench. Most men would like to take a lady's clothes off. I fantasise about fastening a raincoat up for a lady instead! In fact I get quite angry inside if I see a lady in a trenchcoat & she hasn't fastened it properly. What a waste!

Once again, like so many of your writers, I got (and still get) excited by coat fragrances too. Macs are best for me in this area as well, but I'm luckier than some of your correspondents, because I've yet to find a coat whose fragrance I don't like. A full bus on a wet day is a happy place for me. There's something about lots of soaked individuals in wet coats coming & going in an enclosed space. Mmmmmmmm! I have happy memories of a Gannex Mac from my childhood. If you read on you'll hear me pouring my heart out about it.

The reason I was able to say that I was under 3 with my above first memory, is that by the time I was 3 I had a brown coat instead of the green one. Almost 40 years later I can still smell its own particular fragrance. I've never had another that smelled the same since, either in childhood or adulthood. To most people this was a brown anorak. An inanimate object. Not in my life though! I can remember that it had a brown furry lining that was very snug & warm. It also had a hood that fastened under the chin with strings. The zip had a trademark on it that I subsequently discovered was quite common in the late 1960' s and early 1970' s. If you put a coat on & fasten the zip you will find that at the very bottom of what you have fastened is a square bit of metal. Ultimately this bit holds together the two parts of zip that you have joined. The square bit of metal on my coat had a circle embossed in its middle. The other notable thing about the anorak's zip was the (normally) straight piece at the bottom that you poke into the bit that accepts it on the other side. I don't know the official name for this. If you don't know what I mean then put on a coat with a zip & take the piece in your right hand at the bottom of the zip that you would use to fasten it. It is this piece that you poke into the left side before pulling the zip up that I am referring to. On most coats nowadays this right hand piece is a straight up & down, vertical chunk of metal. If you look at zips on coats in the shops you may find that some of these pieces are slightly curved though. On my brown coat it was particularly curved. I later learned that all coats with the circle embossed on the square piece at the bottom had really curved bits of metal to use in the zip's joining process too. Sorry for all the jargonese, but I can't think of a better way of explaining things. It's important too, as the rest of the letter will reveal.

I don't have children so I've no idea at what age they start being able to fasten their own coats. I do know that I couldn't manage the brown one when I was 3 though. I "still couldn't do it when I was well over 4 which is when it got replaced. Whenever we went out Mum would have her Mac on - or occasionally the blue tweed affair at that stage. I have vivid memories of trying to be independent by zipping up the brown coat. Frustratingly though, the nasty curved bit of metal would never locate in the bit that is supposed to accept it on the other side of the coat It would go through the top bit of the part of the zip that should collect it & then follow its own curve, out sideways rather than into the bottom of the acceptor. After this had happened it was very tricky to pull it out again & have another go. As we were always in a rush there would always be the inevitable whoosh of Mum's coat sleeve towards my anorak's zip & she would take over often bashing my hands out of the way, before reaching up to pull the hood over my head for me. Ooooh. What a fragrance that was!

So I would stand in our hall & try so very very hard to fasten my coat before anyone could intervene, particularly if the grown ups were in their macs. I grew to wish that people would just give me a chance to have a few swipes at the blessed zip instead of intervening so soon. I grew out of the coat before I’d mastered the curved bit of zip at the bottom. I should conclude this section by saying that it often gave the adults trouble too, which led to more fumbling with it, more tingling - and more torment. I had managed to identify the curved bit of zip as my problem. My friend Peter from play school had a blue anorak with a straight piece of zip to put in. When we were outside at play school one day, it suddenly started raining. I wanted to know if I could do up a "straight bit" so I looked hard at him. "Can't you fasten that?” "No.'"

"Come here & stand still.” I put his hood up & did to him what my Mother did to me. I joined the two pieces of zip easily. He wriggled & pulled it out though. I told him how naughty he was & put the zip in again - easily once more - and pulled it up. Nobody noticed mine was undone. I had identified that I could fasten a zip with "a straight piece" though which was a relief.

Oddly the playgroup leader never fastened my brown coat. This was annoying in retrospect because she was a beautiful young blonde lady with a teriffic double-breasted trenchcoat. At the time I was dreading that one day she would do it. She fastened most of the other children up, but she would leave my coat undone. Perhaps she knew how tricky "curved" zips were. Yes. I dreaded that she would cause me to start tingling, but she never did while I had the brown coat. . . .

Anyway, once I'd identified that "straight bits" at the bottoms of zips were good news I set about getting myself a coat with one to save me from continued dread. At that time (1967) there were loads of children's anoraks that were entirely blue, but with a stitched-on diamond pattern in blue thread. The one that I had fastened for my friend Peter was exactly like that. I told my Mum I wanted a coat like his & she actually asked his Mother where it had come from. It's no wonder there were millions of them because the answer was M&S. I was duly taken to our local branch to get one. The lady who worked in the children's coat section was one of my Mother's friends. She was there when we arrived & did what doesn't normally happen in M&S now. She helped. Ooh err! She held a coat out for me to put my arms in, and in a flash, she was round in front of me, crouching & grabbing at the zip. The tingling started straightaway, causing me huge distress & delight simultaneously. It was more muffled than normal because she didn't have a coat on herself of course. She still works in the shop now & must be almost ready to retire. By definition she was about 20 when she did this to me. I'd love a 20 year old to spark a reaction in me now, particularly one with long blonde hair like hers. As she clipped the zip together, I pulled it out! "NO!" I said emphatically - like Peter had.

My Mother & her were both mortified. This was good, because while they gasped for breath, it gave me all the time I needed to fasten the zip myself without further interventions. Mum never tried to do the blue anorak up for me. The next day at playgroup though I left my coat undone to play outside. Without warning someone put my hood up behind me. Then I suddenly started tingling. I looked down to see what was happening. Two black leather gloved, grown up hands had come round from behind me & were fiddling with the coat's zip. At the ends of the gloves were cream trenchcoat sleeves. These sleeves didn't have buttons at the cuffs so it wasn't Mum. They had buckles. This made it the trenchcoat that belonged to Miss Watkins the playgroup leader. "You need this fastened up young man!" "No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"I can do it myself."

"Well I'm doing it for you today. Now stand still will you?" For the first time I was getting amplifications in my ears from my new blue coat's zip as it clicked & clonked under her control. Miss Watkins wasn't sparing the horses as she jiggled the zip this way & that. "Will you not stand still Colin??" Dread & delight were combined in the same way as they would have been with Mum or my Sister. With Miss Watkins though my delight was bigger than my dread! !

Like I said before she had never done my brown coat up. I bet she couldn't do "curved zips!" When I got home I actually hankered after the experience again. I pretended that I couldn't fasten the blue coat when at play school after that, but only for the benefit of Miss Watkins. This was one short period of my young life when I actually wanted to be zipped up, only by her though. With everyone else the dread still outweighed the delight by a long way.

A little later through my life I also had a grey plastic mac with buttons. I can only remember wearing it once on a thundery day. Mum pushed my arms in but left me to do the buttons. I was 6 by then after all. She buttoned her own raincoat up - all flourish & flashes of button. She didn't notice that I chose to go undone until we were outside. Suddenly there was a bang of thunder and, from nowhere, the heavens opened. It was magical. "Button your coat up" she yelled at me. My hands were so wet so suddenly that this was hard - so she took over, angrily. Once again I got tingling. She started with the top button which engendered little, but the lower she got the better/worse things became. It was as good as a zip as she reached the bottom button! I wriggled & writhed & dissolved into giggles. I shouted "Oh tickly tickly tickly!"

Anyway. I grew out of the blue anorak, and the plastic mac & was issued with a red anorak - still aged 6. It was only fastened for me once, by an old dear in the shop that it Came from. Lots of tingling, as she was as blind as a bat - but I withstood the dread that I felt, despite the fact that she tried me in 3 sizes.

At 7 I started a new school & had to have a blue coat to meet with their requirements. I was quite relaxed about coats by now apart from trying them on in shops. I had identified this as the only time when someone would be likely to fasten me up.

Mum pulled a blue anorak down from the shelf. "This is nice." I didn't think so actually. Unusually for an anorak it had a belt which I thought was a bit girly. I slipped my arms in & the lady assistant did the inevitable. Mum was cooing with delight at the coat. I had just decided to go quietly when I noticed that the tingling was still going on after a fair few seconds ... I looked down to see that the assistant was wrestling with a curved bit of metal. My eye fell on the square bit of metal on the other side of the coat once she had eventually fastened it up. Yes. It had that little circle on it. Oh no! Nobody took the trouble to establish whether I could fasten it or not. I suppose this was just presumed by the age of 7. I sneaked into the hall cupboard when we got home, put the light on & tried for ages to fasten the zip. I couldn't do it! Curved zips still ruled ok compared to my attempts at fastening them. This was a disaster for me.

The next morning Mum put her mac on (she had a new one now - a shiny one with gold buttons no less!) but she left it undone. I left my coat undone too - not that I had a choice - and Mum took me to my new school. All was well until playtime when we were sent outside. The school wasn't big & the class ranged in age from about 4 - 8. As such I was one of the older ones. As we collected our coats from the cloakroom to go. outside, it became apparent that there was drizzle in the air. Two big girls from the top class (Carol & Ros - who were 11 it transpired later) pushed past us & stood in the doorway. They buttoned themselves up into double breasted navy gabardines. Carol spoke in a strong West Yorkshire accent. "Mrs Clark (our teacher) sezz yuv gotter av yer curts on. She wantsumm fassunned un all - so iff yer carrnt doo urn up Ros un meyull elp ya!" They each immediately grabbed one of the smallest children. Ros took a girl & Carol a boy & the two mackintoshed girls began rustling their coats & methodically zipping children up into anoraks. Carol's boy pulled his zip out a couple of times & wriggled. "Stand still David!" I wonder whether he was going through dread & delight too? I hung around at the back & tried ever so hard to do my zip up. It didn't help that my hands were shaking like fury I suppose. I could only manage to half-locate the zip before it came out sideways - just like it used to before with the brown anorak. Eventually there was only Carol, Ros & I left. Carol took the lead. "The new boy's a bit big not ter be ebble ter fassun is currrt ain't he Ros?" Ros nodded so Carol continued. "Cumm ear will yer?" They did a joint effort. Ros pulled the hood up & tied it with strings whilst Carol bent in front of me & jiggled the zip apart. Cue tingling & dread. Things got worse. Carol couldn't do it either. Nor could Ros. My nose was full of gabardine & anorak. My ears were full of clicks & clunks. I was tingling like fury too as the girls fumbled with the zip. Worse still was to come when a voice came from behind me. "What's the trouble girls?" It was Mrs Clark. "Nunn uv uss cun fassen thisss oop" said Carol. Mrs Clark had a riding Mac on as she was going out on playground duty. The tingling reached a new crescendo as she took over - without a single word - and got the zip done up.

Both Carol & Ros had my coat mastered after a few more break times to practice. They did better than me because I never got it & took two years to grow out of it. During this time I was tingled almost daily. A non-coat-wearer would give a mild sensation. A coat-wearer made me tingle significantly. A mac/trench-wearer was the ultimate in delight and despair for me. Mum's burgundy & grey leather trenchcoats were in play by now. They both gave a slightly different experience to her mac, and to each other. They were all just as tingly, but in hard to explain. different sorts of ways. It was over the lifetime of this latest blue anorak that I received the tingling experience from the widest range of coat wearers & coats. Mum did me up most of all as before. Sometimes in the burgundy or grey coats & sometimes in her new classical trench mac, which was cream, double-breasted and rubberized. Sadly this Mac has long gone but when she died recently, my wife & I found the pictured coats: The Burgundy and the grey leather ones & that super tan coloured mac that arrived in1976 in her wardrobe. My wife wears all of them now which is how I've enclosed pictures for your archives with her wearing them in some cases. My Dad always had a Gannex like Harold Wilson's. His Gannex was cream. Sadly this has gone too. I've tried to find a picture of one for you but failed. The nearest I can get is a picture of a black one - enclosed - but the lining in the picture is identical to Dad's coat. Ironically I'd love one of these now. It was just so noisy, and that smell .... Wow. My big sister also still made the tingling happen. She was growing up by then. The bottle-green gabardine was gone but she had loads of other coats, so she would get me from within a traditional cream trench, a red shiny rubber raincoat, a black double breasted winter coat & a three quarter length single breasted leather jacket. She was 10 years older than me which made her quite maternal rather than sisterly. Because she was my sister I was able to play her up more too. I took great advantage of this, frequently unzipping my coat after she'd fastened it. She should have just ignored me, but. like all grown ups in my family (and several beyond) she seemed to think it would be the end of the world if I left my coat unfastened. When she wore the red rubber raincoat it was most exciting of all. This was another great noise & fragrance. It was the most exciting tingler of a coat yet until the story I reveal below from the railway expenence...

There was also the lady next door who had a black raincoat & a double-breasted camel-coloured full-length winter coat. She did me up from both of these while she was looking after me. She always stood behind me to fasten my coat (like Miss Watkins had done) as she was very tall. She also had extraordinarily long fingers. Strangely enough my wife has too. I'd never been exposed to tingling from so many sources. I absolutely loved and absolutely loathed it equally, still dreading being fastened up.

A few weeks later the school relaxed its coat rules & the world went parka mad - a bit like now! I was full of dread & delight in a local shop when I saw the latest pretty blonde assistant heading towards me - arms stretching out about to tackle the zip on the parka I had got down in front of my watching Mum & Dad. Horror of even more horror though. My Dad intervened before she got there. To make matters worse he had his Gannex on. It was the first time it had appeared since the magical/dreaded moments that my own 19 year old sister had evoked in me when she was wearing it. As you'll have identified above, she left quite a mark on me that day. I positively froze. Oh no. Everyone assumes I can't do zips. He's going to fasten this for me. He's wearing THAT coat. I was rigid to the spot. I'd have liked to have beaten him to the zip but my arms wouldn't move. His coat had left me in quite a state when my sister had worn it. Dad had never fastened me up when he was wearing it before. What would it do to me when it was under his control? It didn't bear thinking about. He was standing beside me rather than in front or behind but both of his Gannexed arms were crossing my front & moving downwards, almost in slow motion, heading for the bottom of the zip with inevitability. Oh no, no, no The smell of the Gannex was right there in my nose again, matching the moments when my Sister had tackled my blue coat. I felt my body start to react. The noises that his sleeves made were all too familiar too, from the day when my Sister had done me up twice from the confines of this magical Mac. Like both her & my Mum, Dad held everything quite still for a second once his hands had gathered the zip together - ready for fastening. The words "Ready-Steady" went through my mind once again as I tingled helplessly. I was already tingling at a level that would have been the maximum when my Sister had been in control, but I knew it was probably going to get worse & better still when he started moving the zip. I was right. He raised the straight piece a little & the tingling grew to yet another new level. Suddenly it was up & beyond the day with my sister - and he was a man! Next I noticed that the parka's zip was a bit higher than normal on this coat as I watched his big fingers trying to put it in. Its lowest point was only just below the tummy button. It was a very small zip too compared to the coat (which was long & thick). The lady pulled the hood over my head as if to offer some help despite my Dad's intervention. Even though this zip was higher up my body, the tingling was becoming unbearable for me. My Father was working much more slowly & deliberately than the ladies normally did. Mind you he was not in a rush to go somewhere, nor was he out in the pouring rain like my sister had been when she wore his coat. He never touched me as he fastened the zip but it just tickled and tingled my little body as his big fingers moved this way & that. This was particularly horrible & delightful.

At that stage in my development I had no idea as to why it was so horrible to have a man doing this. I have such a vivid memory of his big hands cupping themselves round the zip, in a no-nonsense, yet gentle sort of way. As you can tell it was (and remains) quite chilling actually. For a while -later- in adolescence, I wondered if I was homosexual as a result of these powerful few moments in a shop from my upbringing. I know now that I'm not. It was his mac that did these things to me - not him personally. It might have been a man's raincoat, but the Gannex had a sexy female personality, touch & a certain roughness that affected me whenever it was near from then on.

His Gannex mac became noisier & noisier as he messed with the fiddly little zip that day. It seemed to go on for an age. The zip might not have had a curved bit - but it came out on him half way down anyway, just like the blue coat would have done for me. Oh God no! He was pulling the zip out & was starting again from scratch. We even had a fresh "ready steady" moment before the tingling started again. The memory of my sister fastening me up while she had been wearing his coat was just too recent. The way that she had unknowingly tickled me was there again. The only difference at that second was that she had possessed painted finger nails & her hands had been smaller. I focussed my gaze on the Gannex coat's cuff buttons, away from his big hands, and tried to imagine he was Miss Watkins as he poked the zip in for a second time. His sleeves rustled again and my potential new parka's zip made a soft comforting "clicketty clicketty" through the pulled-up hood as it bashed against the piece it would join. Then "Clonk" as he got it located. Then my heart sank as my Mother spoke... ... .. "It's too big!". She stepped in wearing her burgundy coat & gently pulled the zip down, and out - undoing all his work. The Assistant fetched another green parka in a different style. Dad came round in front of me then & bent down with a Gannex swish. This new parka's little zip disappeared into his hands too as he pulled gently at it. This zip was a whole 3 inches lower at its commencing point than on the previous coat though. This led to The Gannex working so much magic this time that I've run out of superlatives and words to simulate my horror. The tingling was more awful & even better than anything else again. My world of terror & delight seemed to be breaking new world records every few minutes. "Clonketty clonketty, clicketty CLUNK!" came through the hood as he joined the zip at the bottom. He pulled it up to my chin & I relaxed as the tingling dropped to zero.

I'm happy to say though, that after my Dad's humiliating fastening, this was another coat I could do up for myself - even if the zip was small & fiddly. It still fitted when I was 12. This was when I used it to provide another landmark day. At that stage I was watching a football match with my friend Nick with my coat undone. I hadn't felt the dread/delight for about 3 years - not since dad had done it up for me on purchase actually. I was wondering if it had all been real. By now I had a fuller understanding of the human body & how it works. It had become apparent to me just what had been happening to my body every time a grown up - or bigger child had made an intervention to fasten my coat. I tried to fasten my parka - deliberately making a meal of it. Eventually I managed to jam the zip half out, simulating what used to happen with the curved bits of zip on my old blue & brown anoraks.

Nick had a Gaberdine Mac on, which he had inherited from his big sister. I loved the smells & noises of this too. I showed him my zip - out at an angle - and asked for his help. I got it! He didn't pull my hood up of course - and was careful where his hands went, but it really tingled as his raincoat rustled in time with his movements. The magic was still there and I felt equally comforted & horrified by this. Retrospectively, I suppose this was another example of a Male doing something intimate for me. Once again it was the coat he wore that was doing things for me - and the coat was definitely female in my view, just like my Dad's. In fact I noticed later that Nick's coat buttoned up from the left. That makes it a girl's one in actual fact too doesn't it? I hadn't asked a girl to do me up at that stage of my growing up. I regret this now I can tell you. I think the reason I didn't ask was that I thought they might rumble what the tingling was. The next week I stood next to an old man for the football. I had my coat undone because I didn't need it fastened in my view. The old man stretched his hands out. "Shall we fasten this?" I think he must have seen me the week before. I quickly did it for myself & scowled at him.

By then I was noticing other children younger than me getting zipped up by their parents. An awfully high percentage seemed to play up. They would wriggle & pull the zip out. Were they feeling the same things as me?

When I was 13 I had the Angela experience. Angela was 14 & lived next door but one. She came from an open minded 1970's family with young parents. My Mum had gone back to work by then. It was a hot day in the summer holidays. Angela had come round to see me to play Monopoly. Being innocent I didn't see through this but it quickly became apparent that she had more than a board game on her agenda. She "didn't want to be boy & girlfriend" but "felt we had an opportunity to explore each other's bodies."

Nothing that would have made a baby took place but we did cuddle each other & I found out a few of the differences between sexes that afternoon. The whole session hosts one of my greatest requests though. By now my Mum had just bought the Tan coloured Mac. That hot afternoon it sat in Mum's wardrobe. I really wish that I'd got Angela to try it on (she was 5'6 like my Mum even though she was only 14) & then got her to zip up my Parka. Hooded and not, from in front - standing up and crouched down, and from behind, and from both sides. Over and over again - with me wriggling & pulling the zip out & saying "NO' I nearly pulled this very scenario off actually. I told her that I had something a bit unusual for her to do that I'd like. She looked quizzical. In fact she was probably up for anything so I should have carried it off. Instead I went upstairs, put my Mum's Mac on myself, and leaving it unbuttoned, I ran downstairs & did a lap of the lounge in front of Angela with the raincoat flowing behind me, still undone. She looked puzzled. "What do you want me to do?" Why oh why did I not give it to her & get her to zip my Parka up instead of Nick? I had a special dream that night. Most men can tell you when & where they had their first one of these.

As I woke from the dream I discovered that Angela wasn't really wearing Mum's mac & fastening my coat zip up. What a pity. I felt most uncomfortable for an hour or two as well. Angela didn't come round again either. She did buy a mac years later though when she was still living at home. Tease!

The next week reality hit strongly. It was the last week of the holidays & Mum took me to town on the Saturday to buy me a new school coat. It had been really hot, but the weather had broken. Mum had the tan-coloured mac from the picture on. I was actually beginning to hanker over the idea of a lady "doing me up" by this stage. I had all the memories I mention above of new coats when ladies of various ages had come at me in shops to zip me up, together with the horrid moment when Gannex Dad had got there first for the parka. I waited in Millets for the lady to appear. She didn't. An obviously gay man did though. He tried me in various Millets anoraks & I think it was obvious to him what was happening to me. I just couldn't control my reaction - much as I despised myself for it. Obviously the tingling didn't match anything from a coated fastener though. The gay man was inside & therefore coatless. I can remember vividly that the zips on Millets coats had a label hanging from the hole in the bit that you pull up after you've joined the sides of zip together. It was a big black triangular label with the word "Citizen" written on it. The piece of string it hung from was a couple of inches long. Each time he began fastening a new coat he would playfully pull at the label. This made matters worse. I'm sure he knew what was happening. Mum was right next to me & she was tan-mac-fragranced. Her mac's smell combined with someone messing with the zip was driving me bonkers. While our friend was gone searching for another style Mum put me back into the first coat he had produced. This was the first & only time she zipped me up while she was wearing the tan mac. It was nearly as exciting as the Gannex would have been, had she been happening to wear it... ... Then she put me back into my parka to go home so that I could keep my new coat fresh. There was no need to fasten the Parka for me of course. She just did. It was really lovely which made me think that not only did the coat that the person doing the fastening was wearing have an impact, my own one did too. Dad's Gannex & the parka had been all-consuming power. Nick's gabardine had ticked the boxes too when combined with my parka. Mum's tan one ran Dad's Gannex a close second that day - and it worked better with the parka than it did with the Millets coat.

That winter Mum got me a ski jacket to go to Austria with the school. This came from Millets too. I grabbed the zip quickly in case my friend appeared again. He didn't- but a gorgeous lady did instead. It was too late by then though. I was fastening the zip for myself.

I went on to miss some more opportunities with that coat too. Whilst on the ski-ing holiday I tried looking pathetic in front of a group of older girls. I didn't say anything I just swiped at the zip & missed a few times. I didn't dare ask for help in the way I had with Nick. These were girls. They didn't offer either. I tried the same technique with a lady at a not very crowded County Cricket Match. I sat down next to her because she had a mac on actually. She had buttoned it up as it was cold, though not wet. I had my coat undone & began chatting to her about the cricket. She felt unthreatened as she was about 35 & I was 14.

Since then I have tried all sorts of coat with all sorts of ladies coming at me from all angles. I simply don't get the tingles anymore. I'm 42 now & I haven't had them since I was 15. I still like having my coat fastened & I positively adore all ladies from 18 - 80 in their trenchcoats. My wife has three such coats of her own plus Mum's old ones. She fastens my coats for me in memory of my old days. We have a fabulous physical life together, but I just want to be able to add the tingle - which ironically I used to dread -to our repertoire. If she'd zipped me up 30 years ago - or less actually - I would have been in heaven. When she does it now, it's just something nice. How can it have changed so much & why? In fact - why did it ever happen in the first place?

There is one obvious thing that you can do with a member of the opposite sex to exchange affections. I've done that plenty of times in my life, and, yes I find it both tender & beautiful in its own way. The tingles from my zip being done up when I was younger were even better than that though - by quite a distance actually. How do I get my tingles back?

Thanks for reading. I'd love you to publish this letter, long though it may be, and I'd also love to spark some sort of debate on this.

Yours Sincerely

Colin

Dear Colin

What a fascinating story! I do hope others will read it and comment as you prompt them to!

One thing that interests me among a whole bagful: the combination of dread and delight. It's often thought that there's some kind of 'contradiction' between pain and pleasure, as though it's really difficult to imagine how you can have both at once, but I think both at once looks like some kind of impossibility only if you think there is one thing here with either a plus or a minus sign - pleasure plus, pain minus. Then you can't have both at once - because one and the same thing can't be both plus and minus at once. But the paradox goes away the moment you accept that there are two systems in play in the brain - trigger one and you get pleasure, trigger the other and you get pain. Accept this and there is no reason at all why both may not in some circs be triggered at once, making you feel nice and horrid at the same time! - Is there? A single piano key can't produce more than one note at once, but a whole keyboard can. Why on earth do we assume our brains are more like a single key than a keyboard?

I guess I'm missing something!

Anyway, thanks for such a very interesting letter. Sorry it's taken a while to scan in and get right for the screen... (Itself a process which, for example, played both my keys...)

Please write again!

 

Lorraine

Response from Andy

 

SHOP | CLUB FOYER | CHILLOUT ROOM | ASK LORRAINE