grandpa invited all his close kin to that Halloween party and we played
Murder and Mystery game, sang songs, ate sweets, and could not stop
thanking our grandfather for that wonderful get-together. Grandfather’s game was truly fun – we all had to dress as the Englishmen of
the nineteenth century and follow famous Sherlock Holmes (my father)
in the investigation of the murder of a girl (a hypothetical one, of
course) in London. Grandfather was the storyteller as always and guided
us carefully through the game. I was given a role of the criminal that
did not commit the murder but was suspected of it and had to hide from
all other actors-Englishmen to escape the capture and false imprisonment.
Certainly I was wearing my beloved jackets, because I enjoyed the life
having put it on me.
Hiding in a place where nobody could find me was not an easy task. I was
aware that my cousins were familiar with our grandfather’s house
as excellent as I was. I looked for a special place that none of my cousins
would have known about and I found it under the houses’ roof. First,
I took several steps in the dark on what it seemed to me a narrow wooden
staircase. Then I saw a door or, to be more precise, the string of light
through a small key-hole that belonged to the door. I had never seen that
door before and I did not remember my grandfather opening it before me.
I pushed the door, which turned out to be unlocked, and entered the room.
At first, I could not see anything, because my eyes were getting used to
the bright light that was in the room. Then I started noticing a great
bunch of very nice men’s clothes, hanging neatly on room’s
walls. Those beautiful jackets and pants and suites seemed to be new and
old at the same time: new, because they did not seem to be worn even slightly
and covered with much dust and old, because they did not match our modern
fashion then. Several jackets had caught my attention, thought. They looked
exactly like the corduroy blazer that my grandfather always wore, the only
difference was that they looked brand new and were of other colors. The
initials V.T. clearly stood out on those jackets as well as shiny brass
buttons. “I thought that my grandfather had only one such corduroy
blazer, but he has so many and he does not wear them for some reason,” I
thought to myself, having no idea what I had just uncovered. Without a
second thought, I took one corduroy blazer from the wall and ran downstairs
to proudly tell my family that I had discovered grandfather’s secret
closet. When I showed my trophy-jacket to all relatives in the living room,
everybody recognized it right away and was astonished. My mother could
not believe that her eyes were looking at the almost exact copy of grandpa’s
old corduroy blazer. “Dad,” she said to the grandfather while
giving him his jacket, “how do you explain this?” My grandfather turned pale and red several times before he could finally speak. “Sit
down everyone, please,” he said at the end, “it is time for
me to tell you the truth about my corduroy blazer that you all know so
well.” Of course, my people thought about the famous shops like Kohls
Coupon Code, or Target
Promo Code, where they purchase their clothes.
And he began his story. It turned out that my grandfather was a famous
Luton tailor who specialized in men’s suits and jackets many years
ago. He loved his job and made many nice clothes for himself and his customers
until he met stiff competition from London. “I worked very hard to
beat my competition and even had not had a little time for sleep,” he
said “and your mother started to worry about my health.” Finally,
after two serious heart attacks, according to my grandpa, my grandmother
asked him to stop his tailor shop and choose a more quite profession. My
grandfather did quit sewing for a living and got a job as a geography teacher
at a Luton’s middle school, working there until his retirement. He
did not stop wearing one of his own-made jackets, though, because he was
very proud of his past profession. He hung the rest of his self-made clothes
in the under-roof closet (that I discovered by a pure mistake), and would
go up there to look at his creations once in a while to remember his past.
My family was truly astonished. Neither my late grandmother nor grandpa
himself had ever told us about grandfather’s passion for sewing.
I understood then how proud my grandfather was when he was wearing his
own-made corduroy blazer, although he could not continue his career as
a professional tailor.