… in every boy’s life there comes a time where he must do an Andy a-la Toy Story and make those life-altering decisions. Some tend to be bigger than others – which career to pursue, where to live, how to progress to the next life stage in a deft and accomplished manner. Some things we also lose along the way – our prepubescent voices of youth and teenage angst, our general fitness (well in my case at least) & a variety of supposedly precious friends.
And my cross, my very difficult loss to bear was finally saying goodbye to my yellow jacket. Frequently I would refer to this slip of beauty as my GMTV jacket; of course I mean that almost ironically. Everything about GMTV was (is, if it continues) tacky; this instead was a haven of hope for any time of the day. It was a shining beacon of light and unashamedly glorious –a garment to wonderfully contrast with the world’s obsessive zeal for anything monochrome. I remember the joy of buying it all those years ago for a slashed price, and the comments that were immediate; a range of accurate and not-so-accurate/ clearly subjective one-liners for people unaccustomed to the dizzying heights of unparalleled greatness. Along the way I did however begin to accept – no, concede – that it had perhaps begun and ended life in the ‘80s. The polyester and nylon look remaining fairly dated on first viewing, cheap on a second, and the threading of the jacket was just as unimaginative. Oh course, I didn’t care then but it did further the decline of the jacket, that and the obvious staining from yesteryear… and the bobbles concluding. So I made a spur of the moment decision and ditched it. This article is the finalising of the mourning. The shame of disregarding a key part of my history.
Admittedly, I know there is a trace of melodrama to this article, my first in a while. But really, my jacket needs the respect it wholeheartedly deserves. May it make someone staying at the motel I was staying at as happy as it (obviously) made me.