There is little point avoiding the truth that is at the heart of this statement: I have too many clothes and certainly have more items of Fred Perry, Lyle & Scott and Pretty Green clothing than someone needs.
I have occasionally mulled over why this is so. Part of me, the part of me I like to bring up on when being working class suits whatever argument I am (no doubt pointlessly) making, puts it down to not quite being able to have the things I wanted growing up. I would get a bit upset and – no doubt – think it was because my mum didn’t love me that she didn’t buy me whatever it is she didn’t buy me. The worse truth is that I would probably have been annoyed at my mum that sometimes I would not get exactly what I wanted (an unbranded shell suit springs to mind).
What a fuckbastardly little wretch I was. I can’t even pretend that this was confined to when I was too young to know any better. I had certainly matured enough to be resentful about it, but at secondary school I was definitely put out and felt like a second-class citizen because I didn’t have a Berghaus coat (and had quite a shit coat that wasn’t that warm – if we’re being fair to me, which I don’t feel we should be).
If we are taking my pettiness confessions to another level in my early 20s I was definitely jealous of the things my little brother got that I hadn’t. A yearly holiday abroad! He got to go away every year with my parents, the little shit. I had gone about six years without any kind of holiday, not even in England. And he was swanning off to Malta and…wherever else they went. I don’t even care where they all went, the fucking dicks. And he had a computer.
I had fucking nothing – apart from quite a lot; both in comparison to actually poor people and to what my mum could afford to give me. The thing was my mum gave me everything she could afford. She worked in a factory doing physical labour, despite suffering pain from her childhood polio, and came home exhausted to an ungrateful little fucker moaning because he didn’t have a Spectrum (but did always have home and away United shirts on the go). I never even took the perspective that because I hadn’t had a holiday for years it also meant my mum hadn’t.
So, perhaps the reason for my collection of too many clothes and other things does relate back to my childhood: I was a terrible, selfish little bastard then and all that happened is I got (slightly) taller and fatter.