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Authors: Cs Richardson
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stood on the street waiting for taxis. They would have embraced, as old friends do when parting. If you need anything, Freddie no doubt said.
Right then.
Right.
Taxis would have appeared.
Neither friend would have said goodbye. They never had before.
Â
J.
Ambrose Zephyr would sometimes remark that a better man was one supplied with an intelligent woman, the ability to tango and an able tailor.
For those who knew Ambrose, an able tailor became the explanation for why Ambrose Zephyr had stroked out Jaipur on his list and pencilled in Old Jewry.
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Mr Umtata sailed from home a younger man, stowed away in the hold of a runt freighter. Whenthe authorities realized he was gone, he wasnât missed. Good riddance, they said. Another kaffir away.
On the day the freighter docked in London, Germany was invading its neighbours. A week later Mr Umtata found work in the army. Nothing at the sharp end of course, they said. You understand. Still doing your bit as it were.
He learned a trade. Mind the break at the cuff, Major would say. A bit snug across the shoulder. Give those buttons a polish, thereâs a good fellow. Mr Umtataâs war raged through the officersâ mess. When it ended Major and his buttons went home to the country and Mr Umtata went to Cheapside.
He took up piecework in a ladies and gents shop. Alterations To All Garments Our Specialty The Smartest Styles Within Bespoke Orders Upon Request Satisfaction Assured For All Closed Sundays. He enjoyed the ladiesâ work particularly.
He learned how to dance. To understand how the clothes move, he told his employer. Mr Umtata was a small man whose teeth were too big for his mouth, but his partners did not mind. He was always impeccably dressed, he smelled heavenly and he could move. Like Astaire himself, they said.
After twenty years Mr Umtata purchased the shop. It was a narrow concern, too dark in summer, too hot in winter, and could neither boast nor hold the selection common among the Savile shops. But Mr Umtataâs handwork was slow and sure, his service humble, his discretion reliable. Observation and counsel were parcelled out as he saw fit. Upon request.
Â
They met the morning a younger Ambrose Zephyr produced his first television commercial: thirty seconds for the finest cleanser the mod â70s housewife could ever wish to own.
The concept involved a red-haired actress, grinning in a mod â70s housewife manner, on her knees scrubbing the average English streetâa tip to the productâs mod â70s scouring power. What the womanâs hot pants tipped to was left to interpretation. Old Jewry stood in as average street.
The commercial was to be filmed from an extreme angle and Ambrose had split the seat out of his trousers checking the first setup of the day. An assistant from the agency shoved him through Umtataâs door for repairs. The tailorâs first advice: a proper fit through the buttocks.
When asked by Ambrose what he thought of the activity in the street, Mr Umtata replied that it all appeared interesting but sir may want to reconsider the hot pants.
Ambrose became as regular a customer as wages and wear would allow. Jackets now and then, shirts by the gross, flirtations with bellbottomed trousers (against contrary advice). At the rear of the shop, in a wooden box marked Active, Mr Umtata kept a file card with particulars: Zephyr, A. Dresses left, favours right shoulder, prefers contrasting linings. Poor colour sense. Requires some direction. See also Ashkenazi, Z (Mrs). It was the only card filed under Z.
Ambrose brought Zipper to Old Jewry to meet Mr Umtata, as a young suitor intent on impressing might. Do you approve? asked Ambrose.
Indeed sir, said Mr Umtata. I believe the expression is yin to your yang. And if I may be so bold sir. Does the lady dance?
Mr Umtata cut, lined and hand-stitched the suit Ambrose was married inâdouble breasted, trousers in the full and classic style,
Right then.
Right.
Taxis would have appeared.
Neither friend would have said goodbye. They never had before.
Â
J.
Ambrose Zephyr would sometimes remark that a better man was one supplied with an intelligent woman, the ability to tango and an able tailor.
For those who knew Ambrose, an able tailor became the explanation for why Ambrose Zephyr had stroked out Jaipur on his list and pencilled in Old Jewry.
Â
Mr Umtata sailed from home a younger man, stowed away in the hold of a runt freighter. Whenthe authorities realized he was gone, he wasnât missed. Good riddance, they said. Another kaffir away.
On the day the freighter docked in London, Germany was invading its neighbours. A week later Mr Umtata found work in the army. Nothing at the sharp end of course, they said. You understand. Still doing your bit as it were.
He learned a trade. Mind the break at the cuff, Major would say. A bit snug across the shoulder. Give those buttons a polish, thereâs a good fellow. Mr Umtataâs war raged through the officersâ mess. When it ended Major and his buttons went home to the country and Mr Umtata went to Cheapside.
He took up piecework in a ladies and gents shop. Alterations To All Garments Our Specialty The Smartest Styles Within Bespoke Orders Upon Request Satisfaction Assured For All Closed Sundays. He enjoyed the ladiesâ work particularly.
He learned how to dance. To understand how the clothes move, he told his employer. Mr Umtata was a small man whose teeth were too big for his mouth, but his partners did not mind. He was always impeccably dressed, he smelled heavenly and he could move. Like Astaire himself, they said.
After twenty years Mr Umtata purchased the shop. It was a narrow concern, too dark in summer, too hot in winter, and could neither boast nor hold the selection common among the Savile shops. But Mr Umtataâs handwork was slow and sure, his service humble, his discretion reliable. Observation and counsel were parcelled out as he saw fit. Upon request.
Â
They met the morning a younger Ambrose Zephyr produced his first television commercial: thirty seconds for the finest cleanser the mod â70s housewife could ever wish to own.
The concept involved a red-haired actress, grinning in a mod â70s housewife manner, on her knees scrubbing the average English streetâa tip to the productâs mod â70s scouring power. What the womanâs hot pants tipped to was left to interpretation. Old Jewry stood in as average street.
The commercial was to be filmed from an extreme angle and Ambrose had split the seat out of his trousers checking the first setup of the day. An assistant from the agency shoved him through Umtataâs door for repairs. The tailorâs first advice: a proper fit through the buttocks.
When asked by Ambrose what he thought of the activity in the street, Mr Umtata replied that it all appeared interesting but sir may want to reconsider the hot pants.
Ambrose became as regular a customer as wages and wear would allow. Jackets now and then, shirts by the gross, flirtations with bellbottomed trousers (against contrary advice). At the rear of the shop, in a wooden box marked Active, Mr Umtata kept a file card with particulars: Zephyr, A. Dresses left, favours right shoulder, prefers contrasting linings. Poor colour sense. Requires some direction. See also Ashkenazi, Z (Mrs). It was the only card filed under Z.
Ambrose brought Zipper to Old Jewry to meet Mr Umtata, as a young suitor intent on impressing might. Do you approve? asked Ambrose.
Indeed sir, said Mr Umtata. I believe the expression is yin to your yang. And if I may be so bold sir. Does the lady dance?
Mr Umtata cut, lined and hand-stitched the suit Ambrose was married inâdouble breasted, trousers in the full and classic style,
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