Vest is an ambiguous word. I call it a vest. It was sleeveless t-shirt. Like a muscle top for a tiny child. It was red and made by Lee. It said Lee on it, in white writing. I wore it when I was 5.
I got it at the Lee factory in Newtownards. I wore it a lot. I insisted on wearing it everywhere. I got my school photo taken in it in 1988. It was always summer. I can't remember there being any cold weather until I was much older.
I remember we were in the car with my dad, up at where my grandparents live. We were driving to the beach. My cousin was in the car too. We always were loads in the car, we didn't give a fuck about wearing seatbelts or any of that shite. My dad was telling us about all the cool things we were going to do that summer, like swimming at the sea and climbing up mountains.
He mentioned a few things like this, and after every suggestion, I'd ask "Can we wear vests?". It was important. I wanted everyone to wear vests.
I think my ma probably threw it out when I was a bit bigger. It would have been class to have passed it on, like a small, smelly family heirloom.
-See that red vest, the wee one with the big fucking hole in it?
-Aye
-It's three hundred years old
-Fuck me
It was a golden age.
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