Here, put this coat on

It was something me and my sister would imagine happening to us, whenever one of us was grappling with some important decision about our future.  'Don't worry', we would say. 'One of these days a man will step out from behind a bush and say- Here, I've been watching you and I'm impressed.  Now put these clothes on and come with me'. 

We imagined that we would then be whisked away and led off to become globe-trotting supersleuths or some exciting destiny of that sort.  Well it sure beat pondering whether to fill in an application form for that teaching job in Oldham-but of course it never happened, and as our twenties gave way to our thirties it seemed that the mystery man was never going to step out from behind the bush.  And then today, he did.

Well OK, he never actually stepped out from behind a bush.  But if anything, today's events were even more mysterious than that.  I got home from work to find Charlotte pointing at a large brown parcel stuffed into the baby's pram in the hall.  'The postman woke me up this morning making a right racket', she said.  'He left that for you'.

At first I wasn't even that curious- I had been expecting a pair of shoes and a shirt that I had left at my mam's house a month ago.  But a look at the postmark told me the package had come not from Blaydon-on-Tyne but from south Manchester- just down the road in M13, in fact.  I tore open the package to reveal, not any clothes I recognised, but some kind of coat, expertly folded into a cylindrical shape, with the hood tucked away inside the body.  On unravelling it turned out to be a classic-cut blue Parka, just like the ones we used to wear in junior school, except a lot bigger.  I tried it on.  It could have been made for me- it was an exact fit.   

Now if you remember about Parka coats they have lots of pockets.  Having ascertained that there was no message inside of the packaging, I started to rummage about in them.  There was none.  I put a call through to my mam and dad.  My mam works in a library and sometimes sends me books I might be interested in. My dad is heavily into the weather reports on Ceefax.  I imagined between them they might have seen some freak snowstorm set for Lancashire and decided to send me something to keep the chill off.  The postcode thing must be to do with a mix-up at the sorting office, or something. 

'Have you been sending me stuff in the post?', I asked my mam.

'Aye- I just posted those shoes of yours, ten minutes ago'.

'What about a coat?  Somebody's just sent me a coat in the post'

'Somebody's just sent you a goat in the post?'

'Not a goat- a coat!'

'Oh, I've not sent you any coat.  And I've not sent you any goat either, for that matter'.

It was then that I remembered the secret pocket on Parka coats- you know, the little one half-way up the left arm.  You would keep your bus ticket there, or maybe your one-penny blackjack chews.  I rummaged inside, and sure enough a tiny piece of paper floated out onto the floor.  I picked it up.  There was a short message.  Like my name and address on the package it was hand-written.  Neat, young person's handwriting, in pencil.  Nothing threatening about it- but still I was quivering a bit as I read:

'Jonathan- welcome to the club!'.  And underneath, an email address- 'Parka-club at something-or-other dot com'.

....

'And that's all it said- Welcome to the club?'

'That's right- what do you make of that, then?'

There was a mass shaking of heads.  None of the five-a-side football fellers had ever heard of such a turn of events, which was a dissapointment- some of them are a bit younger than me and i imagined they would explain that sending handsome retro gabardines anonymously through the mails was just the kind of crazy caper the youth of today was getting up to and there was nothing to concern myself about.  But no- they were as mystified as me, and some of them looked as if they thought I was making the whole thing up.

Well I'm not.  But I am rather bemused. What sort of mysterious club have I been signed up for here?  And what is the etiquette for new members?   A short note of thanks to the email address from the ticket pocket, perhaps?  I've got a vintage black duffle coat I picked up in more straightforward circumstances last winter- should I be dispatching it first-class to some unsuspecting person out of my address book?  Will I be getting any more notes from the club secretary?  A quarterly newsletter? An invitation to the Christmas ball?  Or maybe we will be all putting our parkas on and scootering down to Brighton to take on the Teddy Boys in a mass beach brawl, 1960s-style.  Is this really any kind of club for a respectable thirtysomething year old office worker to be joining?  And where do I get a scooter from, anyway?

I don't know- perhaps one of you lot can tell me what this is all about. Because I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm really not making any of this stuff up (apart from the bit about the goat.  I did make up the goat stuff, but all the coat stuff is true, I promise). So- do let me know if you know of any madcap schemes out there whereby unsuspecting civilians are being sent bulky but expertly folded greatcoats under plain cover.  Oh, and if my mystery benefactor is reading- thank you!  It really is a lovely Parka-just my size- and as soon as the weather is cold enough I will be walking the streets of south Manchester in it.  And I will be waiting for you, stepping out from behind that bush of yours:

'I've been watching you, and I'm impressed.  Now leave that coat on and come this way'.

What took you so long, mystery man?  I was beginning to think you were never coming, to lead me off to some new exciting destiny.

Comments

[JonnyB]

Wow...

This is, indeed, odd.

Maybe one might suspect some coat company promotion. But seems to defeat the object, now they've sent you a coat. You're unlikely to buy another one.

You didn't once go out with a wierd stalky woman who wore a parka...?

[Martin Q]

Well then. I wondered if I'd get a mention having, after you spotted me at the station yesterday (thanks for having the guts to shout across the tracks at a total stranger by the way!)... but I guess this weird occurrence rather overshadows that one which was altogether rather more predictable. So I'll let you off not mentioning me!

Now then, as it happens, I have a parka, and live in M13, so perhaps I should join this club of yours. (I've checked, and mine is still there, so you haven't been sent mine!) What did you say the email address was?

[Iain]

It's like Mr Benn meets The Twilight Zone...

[jonathan]

Well I wondered also if this could be a promotion thing, especially with winter coming on... maybe the Parka people reckon on sending out a handful of coats to people who will then wear the garment around the streets, and some of those who see will go out and buy Parkas themselves, without even realising why... in which case I suppose I should feel flattered at being considered such an opinion-former...

On the other hand it could be that, like Mr Benn, I have a parallel existence which this version of me knows nothing about in which things like this happen all the time. That would be much more exciting...

And Martin, yes I probably would have written about our chance meeting had even more bizarre events not intervened. And I don't think I should tell anyone the email address until I have written to it myself- it might be a secret only divulgeable within the ticket pocket of a classic cut blue parka coat on pain of some terrible retribution...

[looby]

How strange. Googling for "Parka Club" doesn't really throw up much either, apart from some Parka enthusiasts sites [sic!].

Maybe it for one of your neighbours?

[jonathan]

No it's not for one of the neighbours... it is addressed to me by name- and the message says 'Jonathan, welcome to the club!'

[jonathan]

Oh and I tried Google as well- and before you try, googling for 'I have been sent a parka coat in the post' brings up nothing either... these parka club people know how to cover their tracks...

[abby]

Eeeee, Jonathan, this is the best crinklybee posting ever -- is it possible that the parka has special powers?

[Ben]

How bizarre. Perhaps it calls for a private investigator - I hear Ray Winstone's moving in those circles these days. Just don't call in Scooby Doo et al - they'll just pin it on Old Man Withers down at the amusement park, as always.

Look forward to further developments...

[John]

A BLUE parka you say. I always thought Parkas were green. Are you sure it isn't a snorkel jacket as worn by all boys during the 70's.

Perhaps this is some fundamentalist (with the emphasis on mentalist)breakaway group from Pie-club. They probably hold meetings in bike sheds and everyone has to have a sticky paperbag in their pockets containing congealed pineapple chunks and fluff.

[Damo]

This could be your invitation to join the world of MI5/MI6/MI7/Spectre/Spectrum/The Persuaders, etc.
If you do join Spectrum, try to become Captain Turquoise. They haven't got one of them yet.

[jonathan]

Spectrum? The Persuaders?? ..seems there is more to this Parka Club business than meets the eye, I am going to have to learn the language if I am going to fit in...

Meanwhile I have emailed the address out of the sleeve ticket pocket to thank them for their mysterious package, and to let them know the new coat is settling in well into its new home in between the retro duffel coat and the brown suede £30 TK Max jacket. You will all be the first to know if there is any response from Captain Turquoise and his Parka Club henchmen...

[Nexus John]

An old pal of mine called Harry Kirsop wore one of these all the time. They were navy blue in colour and with a fir trimmed hood.There was a bit of red somewhere as well.Harry Kirsop,worked with me with Everest Double Glazing for many years before his untimely death in 1999.
These 'parkas' were until recently quite common as standard issue in the ship building industry on the Tyne in the 80's and are still to be seen in ever decreasing numbers on Shields Road in Byker.

[Isabelle Baker]

I remember sometime in the eighties or nineties there was a big strike that dragged on for a long time with workers on picket lines. It might have been the firemen's strike or the miners - I forget which. Anyway, it was in the old days before Thatcher decimated the power of the unions. Someone took pity on the pickets and issued every one of them throughout the country with a brand new parka. They appeared night after night on the News standing there in the bitter winter weather wearing their parkas with pride. I don't know what the outcome of that stike was - it seems like a different world. Now, they just give you 90 days notice, garden leave and Goodbye!
Maybe, over the next few weeks we're all going to receive parkas in the post in readiness for the Revolution - Yes, come the Revolution we'll all be wearing parkas with pride.

Ma Baker

[Abby]

I knew it! It has to be! The revolution! Venceremos! I wonder if Ma Baker is any relation to that old union rabblerouser Mother Jones? Those were the days!

[Martin Q]

So... any response from the club yet?

[jonathan]

Not only have I had a response from Parka Club, but in a possibly related incident I found an apple in the street with a message written on it. Full details to follow.. I'm not making any of this up, honestly.

[Nexus John]

Come on then,what's the story? Who? What? Where? Why? And the apple??