THE SONG OF THE COAT

THE SONG OF THE COAT

Jaunty, twenty, a civil engineer in the making, Chris is the future. His grandfather’s Indian Army jacket fits him like a glove. Forty-seven years old, pips, braids, insignia all gone, dusty from unloading the container, it still cuts a dash as slim and upright he marches over the bridge. His grandfather served in India half-a-century ago a slim, youthful Lieutenant Colonel Chris only knows from a fading photograph only remembers in the veterans’ home of his last few years still able to walk four miles every day after lunch. “When he died, Nobody wanted the coat .....” Across the bridge, a history too near, Chrish shrinks to a khaki blur against the snow.