Tailoring Tale

My cassocks have served me well, really. I had them made while I was at theological college so they have lasted the better part of seventeen years before the cuffs have started to look a bit worn. To be fair, I look a bit worn after seventeen years too, but I can do something about the cassocks.

Mr Taylor (appropriately enough) made my cassocks. He used to have a shop on the Cowley Road in Oxford which was convenient both for him and the theological students who found their way there, but a few years ago he decamped some distance away to Eynsham Sawmill. 'I hoped that things would get a bit quieter, but they haven't,' he told me, which is a surprise considering that students can no longer literally walk across the road from where they live to buy clerical shirts, collars and stoles. 

The nearest railway station to Eynsham Sawmill is Hanborough, about a mile and a half away. Miss T lives nearby and gave me a lift from the station before we went for a coffee, so I outsourced some of my carbon emissions. Mr Taylor has recreated his shop within the smaller and somewhat rougher surroundings of the sawmill outbuildings, though I didn't spot the antique till he used to use in picturesque fashion. 'It'll be a while before I can get the work done,' he apologised, blaming the company that usually supplies his Russell Cord for dragging its feet. 'They did a load before Christmas but then mucked up the dyeing'. 

Miss T realised that she knows one of the other businesses working out of the mill. Corset-maker Julia runs Sew Curvy, a couple of units down. Apparently Mr Taylor occasionally gives her offcuts of dramatic ecclesiastical fabric to be turned into very upmarket underthings.

I made sure we went through the right door.