Coat? What coat?

Life Whenever I think of the play King Lear, since I can never follow the plot I always imagine the central moment, of the old, mad king in the moors railing against the elements stripping him of his humanity. Last night on the way the film class as I was nearly blown off my feet by the wind and the rain I realised I no longer had to imagine how his highness felt. I was cold and miserable. And it turns out, just like him, forgetful.

I've been struggling on in multiple jumpers and shirts desperately trying to keep warm. Although I knew I had a leather jacket, I could hardly wear it for work. I'm one those people who likes shopping, but not necessarily for clothes, so I always kept at the back of my mind that the weather would pick up and I wouldn't need to buy a new coat. So I'm talking my Mum and having one of those, 'Are you sure you're wearing enough clothing?' conversations when she said the following.

"I don't see why you're not wearing that coat you bought last year."

Coat? What coat? I started to think. I didn't have a coat. I knew I didn't have a coat.

"What coat?" I asked.
"The one with the hood. The fluffy hood."

The fluffy hood. The words bounced around the inards of my brain.

"You bought it in Clayton Square. At that shop."

Then it dawned on me. I had bought a coat. In the January Sales last year. I'd worn it all the way through to April. Then in the warmer weather put it away. And promptly forgot about it. Tonight when I got home, I checked the wardrobe, and sure enough, there it was hanging up. To a degree I feel as though its been gifted to me, along with the memory of buying it. So it's a good job it's just the kind of thing I'd buy for myself. I'm not sure what the king would think of all this though.