The lost vest

Peggy's mother and father used to go to the seaside for a week every August. They always went to Tramore and they always stayed in the same room in the same guesthouse. Oul Richie was a man of fixed habits. He liked to know exactly where and when he was going to have his dinner. He didn't care what it was as long as it had meat, veg and potatoes in it, and as long as it came with a big pile of bread and butter and a mug of tea.

Every year in Tramore, hail rain or snow, Richie would go for his dip in the sea - a sight I happily never had to witness. Richie was known in his local as Moby Dick for a very good reason.

One year, after they got back, the Ma was telling us how they got on. The guest house was great as usual. The food was great. The weather was great. The only thing to mar an idyllic week was that Richie had lost his vest on the beach during his annual swim. They had looked everywhere but it was not to be found.

It was a great mystery. The prospect of anyone nicking any item of Richie's intimate clothing seemed very unlikely to me. I suggested to Peggy that maybe a tall ship was stuck for a main sale and borrowed the vest, but she didn't think that that was either helpful or funny.

The following year, the pair of them headed off to Tramore as usual. Afterwards the Ma gave us the review of the week. The guest house, the food, the weather, etc., were all great as per usual.

'But c'mere,' she said. 'D'ya remember me tellin' yis tha' himself lost his vest on the beach last year?'

'Yeah,' said Peggy.

'Well he found it when he went for his swim!'

'Y'are jokin',' said Peggy. 'It was still on the beach?'

'Not at all,' said the Ma.

'He was wearin' it all the time!'


The hilarious new comedy novel 'It's a Desperate Life' is now available as a paperback or e-book from Amazon and all other good book sellers, and through http://peterhammondauthor.com