A Barbour jacket for my birthday

Today - July 6th - is my sixty-ninth birthday. (Drum roll and national anthem? No fuss, please!)

Older person's birthdays can be rather difficult. After all, there's nothing special about being sixty-nine - not like next year's birthday! - except to wonder that, despite the dire predictions of some, and against the expectations of others, one has kept going. 

If, like me, you are light on achievements - not even having created a family to take pride in - and lacking personal talents and qualifications, it's natural to see one's entire life as a tale of lost opportunities and repeated journeys up blind alleys and dead ends. So little to show; nothing much to shout about. Another decade now passing, and that much closer to the end of the conveyor-belt and the recycling bin. 

Given such thoughts, one could expect at sixty-nine to be thinking of ebbing tides and chilly sunsets, metaphors for a final grey and grumpy era in which sardonic observations about what could have been, and rueful complaints about current aches and pains, become the mantra. 

Well, that may be so for some, but I remain buoyantly optimistic. I'm up for fun and satisfaction, and plenty of new things! I can't manage extreme experiences (like sex, or space flight) but I still want novelty, and my innate curiosity to see for myself is undiminished. I want to go to places, and know them. And, of course, blitz them with photographs!

But I need to be dressed for all that discovery. And two years ago, in 2019, I realised that I was deficient in the warm-and-dry rainwear department. I partly remedied that by buying a green hooded Seasalt raincoat in October 2019, which has appeared in many a picture. Of course, before then I wasn't entirely without wet-weather gear. I had an attractive aqua-coloured jacket bought in August 2011, which also appeared in many a shot down the years, though rather eclipsed by the green raincoat sine the end of 2019. The trouble with the aqua jacket was that it was only showerproof. Persistent rain would gradually soak it. Whereas the longer and properly-hooded green Seasalt raincoat could repel heavy and prolonged rain, and still keep me warm and dry. That aside, the aqua jacket was showing many signs of wear after so long, and might be called shabby if closely examined, although still perfectly fine for ordinary use. It was however time to retire it and get something better.

So I'd been considering a more upmarket wet-weather jacket for a while. Which make? It seemed to me that the better jackets were all rather expensive. So be it, but that made it more difficult to buy one. I didn't want to make a mistake. 

But I soon got a good idea what kind of jaHket I wanted. 'English Country' style, not 'Polar Expedition'. Without a hood (so that it was easy to sling - and unsling - bag and camera straps over my head). Smooth-running metal zips and firm exterior poppers (for a wind-tight seal). Size 18 for roominess, but of course shaped for a female body. Too many jackets were styled for a man's frame, and looked oddly shapeless on a woman's slimmer, wide-hipped body. 

The jackets made by Barbour were my obvious first choice. My only reservations were (a) the high price, although I could presumably take durability for granted; and (b) I didn't like the olive-green colour one particularly associates with Barbour jackets. It too readily brought to mind an image of the Shooting Lady or the Horse-riding Lady. But I discovered that there were other colours. I'd be very happy with navy blue, which was a very dark blue to be sure, almost black, but it didn't have the Huntin', Shootin' and Fishin' connotations. Navy blue would be suitable for the town, as well as the country; for restaurants, as well as stables.

Three other things clinched my choice. 

First, I'd bought some hats by Olney while on holiday in May and June (described at length in an earlier post), one of which was waxed and waterproof. So I could have a hoodless jacket and still keep my head dry. 

Second, my sixty-ninth birthday was fast approaching, and my local girlfriends would be contributing £20 each to the cost of whatever present I bought for myself. That made a big difference to the affordability of a Barbour jacket. 

Third, while out in Kent recently with my cousin Rosemary we visited the Designer Outlet at Ashford, which I hadn't been to before. A hundred big-brand shops ranged around a central car park - Barbour among them. So I was able to examine the merchandise carefully before I bought, and to try it on. And yes, Barbour's classic 'Beadnell' lady's jacket in navy blue was the one to go for. But being an outlet, they didn't have size 18, only a 16. The 16 was, as expected, slightly too snug. So I didn't buy from there. But I made my mind up to visit Aston Bourne, the Barbour dealer in the Lanes of Brighton. That's where I went on the 1st July, and came away with the jacket I now own. 

I had to surrender it to friend Jo that same evening, so that she could gift-wrap it for me for a lunchtime presentation next day, when we all get together at a nice restaurant after pilates. But of course I first tried it on again at home, and took a few photos.

It looked dark blue in some shots, black in others. Being new, it felt very waxy. And because the girl who served me at Aston Bourne had to go down into their vaults to get a size 18, I think nobody had ever tried this jacket on before: I was the first. It was pristine. The basic cost was £209, but their summer sale price reduction brought this down to £188. So the net cost to me, after the girl friends' contributions, was only £108. 

In one of the front pockets I discovered a caring-for-your-jacket booklet and a nice 'Barbour' badge to pin to something (obviously not the jacket itself!) One's teddy bear, perhaps.

Barbour's waxed jackets are still made on Tyneside, at South Shields, which (appropriately) is not so very far away from where I bought my three Olney hats, any of which ought to look good with this jacket. I plonked Olney's 'Annabel' waterproof hat on my head, to see whether the jacket and hat did indeed sit well together. I thought they were natural companions.

So this was my collection of recently-bought jackets and coats, with supporting hats, hairbands and pearls:

Ah, I haven't yet mentioned that blue denim jacket. I got it a few days before the Barbour jacket, and it was immediately worn in an adventure on Ashdown Forest (a post may come about that).

There was one last thing to check. Did the new Barbour jacket go well with my Dubarry boots, bought in 2011 but still my standby for muddy country paths, if the walk isn't going to be over-long. 

Oh yes. Perfect. 

Well, I rebagged the jacket and handed it over to Jo. Next day, a pink beribboned package appeared, here posing on Fiona's bonnet:

And this is the moment I opened the package - Jackie took the shot with my camera: 

And Sue, next to me, took this shot with her iPhone:

Meanwhile, Jackie poured out the wine for a birthday toast:

Back home again, I contemplated my new jacket, but didn't yet go anywhere outdoors with it. I wanted to see how it performed in wind and rain, but there was none that evening. 

The next evening I drove down to Shoreham at dusk. Showers were forecast, but it was still dry, and the showers didn't appear. I could at least find out how snug I might be in a breeze, with only a light top on underneath the waxed jacket. It wasn't quilted, nor fleece-lined, and there would be a limit to how warm I'd feel, unless wearing a cardigan as well as a top. Surprisingly, I was perfectly comfortable. So this then would be a good jacket for cool summer evenings. 

One thing, though. I saw a couple of people doing a double-take in the falling light when they saw me coming. What was that about? Then it came to me that, although I wasn't wearing a cap or any badges, my jacket resembled the ones police personnel wear. I must have been mistaken for a patrolling policewoman! Hmm - I'd better think about dressing the jacket up with bright colours, if there were any danger of mistaken identity (with possibly unwelcome consequences).   

Evening all.