I bought a new jacket last week. We were walking around Boundary Mill in Colne when I saw a jacket and it seemed to shout out "buy me". There was something familiar about it, something comforting, something substantial. I felt as though I might have owned it for generations, but knew I hadn't done so. And then, today, looking through some old 35mm slides I took back in the 1960s, I came across this portrait of "Uncle Harry". He is wearing my jacket : the same tweedy weave, the same Autumnal shades, the same classic cut. Perhaps I should now hunt out the shirt, tie and pullover. But I think I will give those glasses a miss.