The dream coat

jacket

About 28 years ago, I was looking for a new winter coat or outdoor jacket. I knew that it had to be warm and have pockets both inside and outside the garment. One Saturday afternoon, I entered a clothing shop on London’s Oxford Street. A well-dressed male shop assistant politely listened to me explaining what I was seeking. He thought for a moment before saying:

“I know exactly what you need, sir”

“What?” I asked.

“What you need is a Dannimac.”

“I see,” I replied, not knowing what he was talking about.

“But, there’s only one problem, sir.”

“Yes. What?” I enquired.

“Well, sir, they don’t make them any more.”

I left the shop amused but without having purchased a coat.

Some months later, I was in New York City, still not having acquired the coat of my dreams. As prices seemed very reasonable in Manhattan, I decided to search for my coat there. I entered a shop that seemed well-stocked but not at the high end of the market, and then explained my requirements. When I mentioned the inside pockets, the chatty salesman interrupted me, saying:

“Inside pockets? Why do you need those? Are you some kind of private detective or maybe you’re a secret agent.”

I was not sure how to answer that, but I went away having bought a superb jacket that fulfilled all of my criteria. That puffy jacket with its inside and outside pockets and brilliant insulation served me well for over 20 years. It showed little sign of wear and tear despite much use. However global warming, and trips to the tropics during winter have rendered it obsolete. I have given it away.

Breathless in Manhattan

NYC

 

When I was a child, I was told that a good way to stop hiccups was by holding one’s breath. Being of a nervous disposition as a child, I worried that dire consequences might follow if one forgot to stop holding one’s breath. My parents assured me that this was impossible; the body did not allow someone to do this.

A few months before President Kennedy was shot in the USA in 1963, we were staying in a borrowed flat (appartment) in Manhattan, New York City.  I was playing a game with my young sister. It caused us great hilarity and much laughter. This led to me plagued by an attack of hiccups. So, as I had been taught, I held my breath. I was standing up.

The next thing I knew was that I was lying on the floor. My mother had taken very little notice at first because she thought my fall was part of our game. Actually, it was not. Contrary to what I had been told, I had held my breath long enough to black out! Very fortunately, when I fell I narrowly missed hitting my face on the shart corner of a metal table.

Does my tale have a message? Well, I suppose it does. Holding your breath can bring hiccups to an end sometimes. If you try this method, make sure that you are sitting down!

 

By the way, a hiccup (noun) is what you do when you are hiccoughing (verb).