At the time I wrote this I only knew two women called Jean and they both had the same surname. It’s not so common naming a daughter after a mother but what’s especially odd here is that Jean Jnr had two older sisters and you would’ve thought the eldest would’ve been named Jean. She also had two younger sisters. No brothers. The poem’s not about her. I’m not sure I ever saw Jean Jnr in jeans or even trousers; she wasn’t that kind of girl. I think if I’d been writing the poem now I’d have done away with the apostrophe in the title. Maybe not.

It’s always puzzled me why denim’s never really gone out of fashion. There was a dip back in 2013/14 which gave journalists an excuse to predict the end but it never came to anything. I own two pairs, a dark blue pair and a light blue pair. Christ knows what brand they are. Not Levi or Wrangler. Just a couple of pairs of old man jeans. The only time I’ve ever made a fuss about my jeans was circa 1979. I had a pair of Brutus Gold which I loved so much that when the first pair wore out I insisted on getting another pair. As I recall they made my legs turn blue.